Of Bravery and Cowardice
by Irbis
Summary: Sabretooth decides to break in his new housekeeper, turning her into an obedient employee. Ch.10 From Scratch. The victor of the fight has come forth. Or has heshe? Complete.
1. The Walking 'Get Me' Sign

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Irbis and several innocent short-lived bystanders; everything else is Marvel's only.

**Chapter 1**

**The Walking "Get-Me" Sign**

The clouds covered the entire sky, but they didn't seem to threaten any rain. They were just there, keeping the sun from warming up the atmosphere. However, Irbis had found a way to warm herself up. Running vigorously through her boss's backyard, she felt herself sweating under the sweater.

She had always enjoyed running, feeling the wind hit her face. She could almost forget about everything else. Of course she hadn't run for real for two years now, ever since finishing high-school. There were no gymnastics or physical education classes at the university, and she would not be caught dead seen running or jogging all on her own. Hell, she wouldn't be caught dead seen running with other people: it'd have looked so strange everyone would have pointed her out and talked about her. That was also why she was running under the cover of the trees, away from any prying eyes.

So she missed her high-school physical education classes where she excelled in the running: she was faster than any other girl, faster than even most boys in her class. Had she wanted it, her teacher had once said, she might have had a future as an athlete. Of course, she would never have chosen that path. She could hardly stand to have people watching her run, in the few inter-school races and games, and demanding a win from her. She liked to run, not to race; and people all around her didn't understand it.

Irbis reached the back of the house and glanced at her watch. Fifty-three minutes. She sighed. It was a pity she couldn't be running on a proper ground: there was no way she could truly develop her speed (and did she love running at full speed!) while running on forest ground. She had to be always careful not to trip, not to hurt herself; she couldn't go in a straight line either, always avoiding tree trunks and bushes. Still, she had managed to get more used to this 'track'. In three weeks, she had improved over half an hour.

She got back to the house and to a shower. September had come with a chill that reminded Irbis of the freezing winter months. In August, she would often get up at 6 am and go for a run straight away. Now, she still got up at 6, but first she did an overall dusting and vacuum-cleaning of some rooms, got everything ready for the day and only went out at 8. Of course, it was still cold at that time, but she quickly ran herself warm and then had a delightful hot water shower. By 10, she had all her chores done. She had this same routine every day except weekends. Saturdays were dedicated to a deeper cleaning, including windows and shutters and moving furniture out of its place; Sundays were chore-free.

Irbis locked the front door and got into her car. Her white mini-van, which Creed had given her. Boy, did she hate that car! It particularly annoyed her the bad performance when going up a hill, or the fact that she couldn't do the gear-shifting as it was all automatic, or that it didn't have much manoeuvrability. But, hey, it was better than no car at all. She sped down Lily Lane, taking advantage of the fact that the area was practically deserted at that hour. It took her fifteen minutes to get to the University's Library. It was there she spent most of her days.

She had started going to the University Library at the end of August, and already every librarian knew Maria Irbis. She always arrived around 10.30, very quiet and discreet; then she did her research, found the books on the shelves and sat in a solitary corner table, as much away from anyone else as possible. She always ate her home made lunch in the park, close to the building. Then she spent the rest of the afternoon in the same solitary corner. Exactly at 5, she always got up and left, sometimes borrowing a book. She was always very nice and polite: she smiled to everyone she talked to, she always said good-morning or good-afternoon to anyone she passed by, and often commented on the weather or other casual topic when she had to ask for the librarians's help.

Amidst the librarians she was seen as a nice nerd, although solitary and friendless; her nose always tucked in a book or computer screen; always walking decidedly when aiming at a specific place, always stuttering or hovering around insecurely whenever making a decision; her clothes neat and conservatively fashionable, very discreet.

That day wasn't any different. At five, as usual, she closed her books and left, saying goodbye to the security guard at the library's entrance with the usual polite smile. The man always responded warmly, as most people simply ignored him. He watched her leave for the car park at her usual fast pace, holding her notebooks with both arms. Ten minutes later, the security guard frowned. Usually, he saw her white van pass by on the road a couple of minutes after she left the building. He quickly reached for his radio.

"Hey, Tony. This is Matt; come in."

"Yeah, Matt. Go ahead."

"You're at the car park?"

"No. But I'm finishing the park round, so I'm just a few feet away. Something wrong?"

"Do me a favour. Look for a white van. The owner should be there: a Caucasoid woman, probably Hispanic; about 5 feet and 3 inches tall; around 18."

"Copy that."

Matt Hoatzin kept his eyes on the road ahead of him, still waiting to see the van speed by. Five minutes later, his colleague called him on the radio.

"Matt, Tony here."

"Go ahead."

"I'm with the van. Can't see your woman nowhere, but I found some notebooks on the ground, a couple of feet from the vehicle. You're thinking she's been kidnapped?"

"Looks that way to me. I'll contact the Wausau Police Department myself."

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Thank you for reading and reviewing.


	2. The Hunt

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Irbis and several innocent short-lived bystanders; everything else is Marvel's only.

**Chapter 2**

**The Hunt**

The phone rang for two seconds. Creed was having a shower when he thought he heard a ringing, but it was so quick he didn't pay any attention to it. He had barely finished the shower when there was a knock at the door.

"Hi, Victor. Ruth said ya asked fer me…"

The woman closed the door, her eyes going over Creed's naked body with a gleam of pleasure.

"C'mon here, Izzie."

The woman bounced over to him, shedding the negligee on the way, and welcomed his eager mouth.

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"Good morning, Victor."

Creed opened his eyes and saw Ruth set down a tray with scrambled eggs, fried ham and bacon, and a beer. He had woken when Izzie had tried to quietly leave his bed. He hadn't let her know he was awake, though, and just relaxed until breakfast time.

"What time is it?"

"Almost 9. Would you like anything else for breakfast?" The woman smiled knowingly. "Maybe a digestive?"

Creed grinned. Ruth always knew how to keep him pleased.

"It'll depend on the digestive. Who d'ya got in mind?"

"Both Rachel and Ellie are free."

"Hmmm. Rachel and Ellie, huh? Tell ya what, I'll taste both an' decide which one I want afterwards."

"I'll call them."

Creed reached for the tray. The day was starting out really good.

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It was barely past midday and Ruth was packing his stuff while he ate. He always spent some hours at Ruth's whenever his jobs took him closer to New York. She had good women and good food available, and knew just how he liked things.

"Hey, Victor, you have a call on your cell phone."

"Huh? I thought I heard somethin' last night. Lemme see."

Ruth turned to him, letting him see the cell phone, and he immediately sprang to his feet, swearing and snatching it from her hand. He swore some more while checking who and when had called. Then he grabbed his bag, ignoring the two shirts still on Ruth's hands, and left without another word.

"Victor, wait… Oh, nevermind!" The woman shook her head, annoyed, and hanged the two shirts in the closet. "Ya'll come back again sooner or later."

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Creed swore all the way to Wausau, in the private flight he had freighted. He had bought that particular cell phone so that Irbis could contact him should anything happen. He had also bought her one, but no matter how many times he tried to call her, the damned thing was always dead. Nobody was answering the house phone, either.

What the hell was going on?

Once in Wausau, it took him half an hour to find out the answer: the time it took him to find his house watched by a grey haired cop and ask him what was going on with the house's owner. The old guy then told him that a young woman who lived there had been kidnapped from the library's car park. Creed didn't lose any time and got as much information as he could: a security guard had sounded the alarm about 15 minutes after the attack, but the guys had disabled the cameras so there weren't many clues to who the perpetrators might be.

The whole thing had happened about 24 hours ago.

After chatting with the cop in a tone as casual as possible, so as not to get any unwanted attentions, Creed checked the car park. It wasn't hard finding Irbis's scent at the spot where her notebooks had been found; nevertheless, many people had walked by that same spot, wearing down last day's scents. Fortunately it hadn't rain. Even as it was, it required quite some effort to get the information he hoped for. He registered Irbis's scent, first of all; then he isolated other scents similarly wore down from more recent ones. That was hard work and it gave him a headache; but he was satisfied with the results: masked under the still strong stench of ether, he noted down five guys' scents. The five men had been through that spot around the same time Irbis had been kidnapped, so they were the potential kidnappers. But before anything else though, he went after the two security guards working at the place at the time of the crime. Naturally two of those five scents belonged to them, so he narrowed down his list to three suspects.

It was 8 pm. Irbis had been taken about 27 hours ago and Creed only had the guys's scents. Now he needed a visual of them, but how if they had disabled the cameras?

He checked the security company which dealt with the Library surveillance. Sure enough, both cameras in the car park had been taken out at 4.57 sharp. That meant the guys had picked their victim previously and carefully studied her routine. However, they hadn't disabled the car park's entrance camera. But no car had left before the arrival of the police, and then five or six vehicles had left almost in a row. There had been no suspect movements while the cameras were still on, either. No clues there, definitely. But, if the hit had been previously prepared, if Irbis had been spied, maybe there could be some clues in the surveillance tapes from the previous days.

It was close to seven in the morning when Creed finished checking the security company's tapes for the previous four days and the day of the attack itself. He had taken them home with him where he was more comfortable for this type of work, and had been very careful so as not to let out his presence to the aged cop outside. The last thing he needed was to become known to the authorities of the area.

Creed finished a bottle of beer and sighed. He hated this kind of couch work. But at least his guess had turned out right, as expected. During the four days, many people had arrived at different hours every day. Workers always arrived before the opening hour, students and researchers typically ten to fifteen minutes after opening hour. Cars driven by workers only left after closing hour or for a short period at lunch; cars driven by students and researchers came in and left at random during the day. One car which seemed to belong to a worker at the place, though, caught his attention: the car always brought three guys. They always arrived at the opening hour, apparently making a case for a just in time worker, and were always the last to leave at the closing hour. Once they got out of the car, they always moved slowly, looking about them discreetly. Those were his targets, Creed decided.

On the day of the attack, their procedure had been different, though. Two of the guys had arrived at their usual hour in their usual ride; the other guy had arrived in a dark green Ford a few minutes after Irbis had parked. Obviously, it must have been stolen. The green car had been parked in a row behind Irbis's white van, exactly in the way which Irbis had taken in the four previous days when leaving the library. The green car had left a few minutes after the police had arrived, like the cars of other students. It was clear that they had got Irbis from behind, knocking her out with ether and locking her in the green car's rear. Then they must have gone their ways and, later, the green Ford driver had come back and left unnoticed. The other two had left almost at 5.30, in their usual Land Rover.

Creed opened another beer and thought it out. They probably had met at some deserted meeting point, changed Irbis into the other car and ditched the stolen Ford. Creed hoped they had kept the usual car. If they had changed into yet another one, it would make it much harder to follow their track. He got up and walked to the window, taking a draught from the beer. The sun, which had risen just half an hour ago, could hardly lit the street, not having enough strength to go through the dark grey cloud cover.

Irbis had been kidnapped 38 hours ago.

Looking at the dark trees in his backyard, Creed wondered if she was still alive. Although it probably didn't matter much: dead or alive, they had had enough time to do whatever they wanted with her. The beer bottle broke in his hand and he cursed out loud, kicking a random piece of glass which further shattered against the piano. He punched the wall, ignoring the blood running from his hand wounds that weren't yet closing, as glass shards were still deep in the flesh. Those assholes had had enough time to do what HE should have done in the first place. That had been the original plan: to get the girl at ease and then take his sweet time screwing life out of her. He should have been the one enjoying her screams; he should have been the one revelling in her sweet tasting blood. Him. Not some good-for-nothing punks out of nowhere. Creed punched and kicked the wall again. So what if he had changed his mind? So what if he had decided she was more useful alive and working? If she was going to die, it was still at his hands. If she was going to get hurt, it was still at his hands. His hands! Not anyone else's.

He turned and viciously kicked the armchair off his way, marching into the kitchen and getting another beer from the fridge. He was going to hunt those bastards all the way to Hell. If he couldn't have the girl's blood, he was going to have somebody else's, and at a hell of a more painful price. Creed took deep breaths, trying to calm his berserker rage. He still had much to do, much to search before he could let it all out on those three punks. And he needed to be able to think. The fastest way to track down the car would be through the police. That meant he had to drop this piece of info on their hands so they could set a state wide lookout for the vehicle. The moment they were spotted, he'd be on to them.

A sudden noise got his attention. Somebody was trying to enter his house through the French windows at the back. He growled, incredulously. Whoever it was, this thief had chosen a freaking bad time to come knocking at his door. He threw the beer away and entered the living room, growling wildly.

Irbis halted and stared at him, blinking twice.

"Mr. Creed?"

Her voice was a mere whisper, and it was swallowed by Creed's thunderous answer.

"What the hell ya doin' here? Ya supposed ta be…" he stopped for a moment, considering the ridiculousness of the situation, and finished with a confused "kidnapped?"

"I ran."

"Huh?"

"I ran away."

And she looked at him as if that was the most natural thing in the world.

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Thank you for reading and reviewing.


	3. Kidnapped

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Irbis and several short-lived bystanders; everything else is Marvel's only.

**Chapter 3**

**Kidnapped**

It was dark and damp. And smelly. Irbis fought the sudden urge to throw up, and when she finally felt her stomach settling down, she looked around and realized she was stuck in the rear of a car. She closed her eyes, feeling her eyes burn with tears. Not again, she mumbled to herself, not again…

After a while, though, she remembered the cell phone Creed had given her. Without a moment's hesitation, she reached for her jacket's inner pocket and got the small thing out. She quickly pressed a key and her boss's number was automatically dialled. She heard it ring for a moment, and then the signal faltered. She looked in dismay at the screen: there wasn't enough cover to make the call. She cursed wildly in Portuguese and tried to think. She was all on her own, now. Just like before.

She didn't have much time to think, though, as she felt the car come to a halt. There were some faint voices and the rear door was open. They were in a dark outdoors place, maybe an out of the way park. But there wasn't much time for reactions. One man grabbed her by an arm and pushed her out, almost letting her fall on the gravel. Without being given time to get a footing, she was half dragged to a van and very carelessly thrown in.

She moaned in the dark space, rubbing her back which had taken the brunt of her fall onto the cold van floor. She slowly sat up, as she felt the van reverse and then speed ahead onto the smooth road. Looking around, Irbis noticed two silhouettes at a corner. She stared at them until her eyes were able to distinguish two people.

"Hi."

One of the people seemed to move at her greeting, and she heard a weak answer, although she couldn't make it out. She crawled on all four and got closer to them.

"My name's I… I mean, my name's Irbis."

Now she could distinguish two young women, one of them laying down, the other sitting and looking back at her. There was almost no light, though, and Irbis wasn't sure whether her fellow victims were willing to welcome her or not. There was a bit of a silence before one of them finally made her decision about Irbis.

"I'm Paula. She's Hally."

"Hi…" Her mind was beginning to race on the possibilities of an escape, so she quickly turned the conversation there. "Do you know what's going on? Who are dese guys?"

Irbis was partially afraid these men might have something to do with her boss's job, and that this might be a kind of vengeance, like the guy who had sent shooters after them back in Albany.

"I don't know… I'm a college student. Over at Appleton. Hally works at a department store. We were both kidnapped when we were going to our cars. I don't know who they are, or what they want…"

Paula stifled a sob, and Irbis could see her rubbing her face with a hand. Wiping tears. But she kept herself cool.

"I don't know what they want. Hally was… was taken first. At Milwaukee. She thought they were going to rape her and kill her, but they didn't. They never touched any of us, except…"

Paula sighed and didn't speak for a moment.

"Sometimes, they stop the van and they give us food, or they let us go out and pee. But there's always someone watching us. Hally tried to run away once…"

Irbis noticed the woman looking at her companion. She was curled up facing the wall. Paula turned back to Irbis and spoke in a very hushed tone.

"They beat her up. Really bad. They threw her in the van unconscious. Now, when they bring food or when they take us out, they always kick her or punch her or just push her to the ground or something..." Paula looked back at Hally. "She hasn't talked for a while, now."

Irbis was silent for a moment. Then she felt her jacket pockets. She took out her wallet, her cell phone and her car keys. That was all she had. The phone still didn't have any coverage so she didn't even bother to try a call, she just checked the time. It was 8.49. Almost nine. It must be pitch dark outside. Unless the clouds had cleared, she mused, and there was a full moon. But she couldn't recall what phase the moon was at. She closed her eyes and tried to think.

"Have dey brought food tonight, yet?"

"No, not yet."

She kept quiet for a bit longer.

"Have you ever thought of running away?"

There was a thick silence. Then a sigh.

"Many times."

Silence.

"But I won't try it, you know. I think it's best if we stay put. The police will find us. They'll… It's never a good thing to oppose your attackers, you know. That's what they tell people. You're likely to end up even more hurt. They may even kill you sooner. You should obey your attackers and buy time with your good behaviour. Until the police can arrive."

A longer silence.

"That's what they always say you should do."

"And it's what you're going to do?"

"Yeah."

Her voice was weak. Irbis was sure she didn't really buy that idea, that the police would show up and save them. But while there's life there's hope. And both life and hope seem brighter if you're not being beaten.

"You?"

Irbis hadn't expected the question. She hesitated.

"I'm not sure."

It wasn't a lie. She really didn't know what to do yet. She put her documents and cell phone back in the jacket. When she picked the car keys, though, a thought crossed her mind and she toyed with them for a while.

"I'm not American. In my country, we say dat… things are in de hands of fate. We say dat we must accept life as it is and live wid de cards dat life gives us. Just accept what you have. And work wid all de little things fate is willing to throw in your way, because dat's all you're going to get from it."

Paula frowned and shrugged her shoulders, turning her attention back to Hally. She wasn't really feeling interested in a philosophical question. But Irbis didn't notice the other girl's silence. A plan had started forming as she had spoken, and she felt relaxed. There really was nothing to be afraid. And her thoughts voiced themselves in a low whisper.

"Everything's just fine. It's just a matter of waiting. Of seeing what cards fate has in store for us and playing with them."

There was silence for a while. Then they felt the van swerving to a side and slowly come to a halt. Irbis grabbed the keys harder in her hand.

"E jogar com as cartas que recebermos…"

The rear doors opened. It really was pitch dark outside. The men threw in some sandwiches and juice packs and closed the doors. Paula sighed and went to get the stuff. Irbis helped her.

"Hally, come on… you have to eat something…"

Irbis dully ate her sandwich as Paula tried to get Hally to react. But it was in vain.

"You should have tried to run both of you at de same time."

"What for?" Asked Paula, as she started on her own sandwich. "So we'd both be like that?"

"If you both ran in different directions, you would have had more chances of getting away."

"Look, just forget about it, OK? There's no way we can out run those men, can't you understand that? We're in the middle of nowhere! There's nothing but woods around. Nothing but woods. If you aren't caught by them and beaten up, you'll probably end up eaten by a bear instead. This is the big outdoors, you know?"

Irbis was silent. What would she do if she found a bear? She ate her last bit of food. No reason to worry about that just yet, she ended up deciding. Deal only with things as they happen. One at a time. But she still couldn't help wonder just what species of wild animals there were in these woods. And how many. And how dangerous they might be for man.

A little while later, the doors were opened once more.

"Come on, time ta go ta the lil' girls' room. We don't wanna have no mess in the car. Out an' easy, now."

Paula immediately sprang to Hally, trying to get her to move before the men came in. Irbis heard a curse from outside, and someone complaining about how long the 'bitches' always took, and she quickly decided to help. She had seen enough beating and torturing in the last two months. Helped by both girls, Hally started moving. It was then Irbis saw the other girl's sandwich and juice still untouched on the car floor. She quickly glanced at the man outside. He seemed to have turned to talk to someone, but she had no idea when he'd look inside again. Taking a gamble, she went back a step, grabbed the things and stuffed them in her jacket pockets, praying for the men not to see the bulges.

Once outside, the three of them were guided to a spot amid the trees and told to hurry. Hally turned her back to the man and started unzipping her jeans. Paula did the same. Irbis looked at the ground nervously.

"Hurry it up! We ain't got all night!"

"I don't feel like it." For once, Irbis didn't mind the shaking scared-sounding voice.

"Oh, ferchristsake! Ya better not make no mess in my van, ya lil' bitch."

She shook her head that she wouldn't. She was so scared now, she thought she was going to throw up. Hally and Paula weren't ready yet. She waited a bit longer, until she thought they were finished, and then gave a hesitant step towards the man. The van was straight behind them, half hidden by tree trunks.

"I'll go back in…"

She offered, her voice even shakier now, and started on her way back.

"Yeah, ya do that…"

Irbis made her way toward the guy shaking like a leaf. She noticed him glance at her and curse, but she didn't register what he said. She was just too scared. The keys were burning in her right hand, even as she slipped two keys through her fingers so that they stuck out from her closed fist. Then she saw him glance over to Paula and Hally. She wasn't exactly at his side yet, just barely a step away. But as she lifted her foot to give that last step, she lifted her closed fist as fast as she could and stiffened every muscle in her as the small improvised blades ripped through the man's face.

He howled through the night like a lion, but Irbis didn't hear him. She had turned back and started running. She didn't forget the two girls, though.

"Run! Now! Different directions! Run! Run! Run!"

She had no idea if they had followed her lead. She had no idea if they had taken this chance she had just offered them. It didn't matter, though. She had done all she could: she had waited till they were in conditions to run. She had given them as much of a head start as she had given herself. Now it was their choice to take it or leave it. Because she wasn't leaving it. She wasn't stopping.

The dark forced her to run slower, but on the other hand, she had been running on forest ground everyday for the past three weeks, now. She was used to it. She wasn't sure where she was going, wasn't sure if anyone was following her, wasn't sure if anyone could see her or her trail. But there was no time to stop and check, so she didn't. She focused all her attention ahead of her, on that short space of ground which she could see in the general darkness. And she didn't stop.

When Irbis finally couldn't keep running, she stopped and tried to catch her breath. Her heart was racing like crazy. She was in the middle of nowhere, just like Paula had said. She wondered briefly about the two girls, feeling slightly guilty. But she couldn't have done more than she had. And she wouldn't have done less. She tried her jacket pockets and cursed when she realized the juice had fallen. Fortunately the sandwich hadn't, and she still had her own juice, which she hadn't drunk, in the inner pocket. So… she had food and drink. Things weren't that bad. She pulled out her cell phone: it was 11 pm. Now, which way should she follow? Feeling both tired and helpless, she decided it was best to stay put.

She tried to plan her next steps as a way to both stay awake and forget about cold and hunger. Once the sun came up she'd know which way to go, she told herself. Even if it was cloudy, she'd be able to see the first light in the east. And then, which way to go? She remembered Paula. She had been kidnapped in Appleton. That was further south. No, further southeast; near that little lake to the left of the Michigan Lake. What was it called? Win-bag? It didn't matter, it was to the southeast of Wausau. And what about Hally? She had been the first, at Milwaukee. That was the biggest city of the state, right on the margin of the Michigan Lake, even further south than the small Win-bag Lake. So the men were driving northwest and picking up women as they went. Had they kept going northwest after Wausau, or had they gone west? Or even some other direction!

She decided she'd go east. It would be easier to stay on that track rather than southeast. Going east, she'd just have to go straight towards the sun. Or the brightest area of the cloudy sky. And then what? There would have to be a road somewhere. Or at least a farm. Once she'd found one, she'd be able to know which way to go. Maybe even get some cover to use her cell phone and call her boss.

Yes, everything would be OK. It was only a matter of waiting and remaining calm. Everything would be fine.

She hoped.

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Thank you for reading and reviewing.


	4. Training

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Irbis and several short-lived bystanders; everything else is Marvel's only.

**Chapter 4**

**Training**

"Ya gonna hafta go ta the police."

Irbis raised her head and stop chewing. Creed could smell the sudden fear coming from her, and it annoyed him.

"What? They ain't gonna eat ya!"

The girl swallowed. She seemed younger in her dirty clothes; her face paler from hunger, and cold, and fear. She looked like a victim ready for the final blow.

"But… Dey… De documents, dey are false. Dey…"

Creed hated her scared stuttering! She just sounded too much like those frails he always enjoyed brutalizing. If it weren't for the fact he was glad those bastards hadn't touched her, he just wouldn't have had the patience to put up with it.

"Those are state o' the art. They ain't gonna find nothin'. The guy who's done 'em knows he'll be dead the moment his work ain't good enough no more. 'Sides, the cops knows ya were kidnapped. Ya hafta show up an' tells 'em ya're OK or I ain't ever gonna have a moment's peace in Wausau again."

Irbis lowered her head and nodded her agreement. Creed snorted.

"There's a cop watchin' the house outside. Ya just finish eatin' an go out an' talks ta him. Now hurry it up."

She hesitated just a moment. Then she got up, put the left over sandwich in the trash and went to the front door. Creed watched her go. What the hell was he now? A babysitter? He shook his head and slipped outside through the back French windows. He needed to get some air and think.

The cloud cover seemed to have thinned somewhat. He took a deep breath. That kid was a survivor. A scaredy weakling, true; but a survivor, too. He had done well when he had decided not to kill her. First, because she was too much of a weakling to turn on him; secondly, because she was smart enough to escape captors and think her way back to safety.

Nevertheless, it still amazed him that she had escaped so easily. She had chosen a simple but effective weapon; she had waited for the right moment; planned her actions… Used her head to find her way out of the woods even without a previous plan! Then she had discovered the right way all by herself; walked for miles hiding from cars; and furtively entered the house through the back without being seen. Of course she was also the klutz who had stupidly lost her cell phone after the whole action was over and who was going to pay for a new one herself. But she was good. Or rather, she could be good. He could make her good. Yes, that was it. After all, she wouldn't be very useful if she could easily be captured by whoever stopped by, would she?

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"NO! NO! NO!" Creed grabbed Irbis's wrists and corrected her stance. "Like this! Got it? Ya keep yar left hand up here and yar right one down here, like this. Now don't move!"

He positioned himself in front of her and exhaled with all the violence he hadn't brought down on the frail looking kid.

"Now, again. I'm gonna punch ya. Real slowly this time, so ya got time ta think all ya want 'fore ya finally gets in yar head ta react, OK? Ya ready?"

She shook her head repeatedly with nervous speed. Creed rolled his eyes and acted a slow motion punch with his right arm. Nevertheless, he stopped his movement when his fist was at the level of the girl's own fists.

"Yer turn now. Deflect my arm like I showed ya."

He repressed the urge to strangle the kid when she raised her eyes from her fists, to his fist and then to his face, a look of scared confusion on her expression.

"What's the problem, now!"

She looked even more completely lost when she heard his irritated not so low growl.

"I… I…" She swallowed and tried to stop the stuttering. "I'm sorry. I… Could you…"

"JUST DEFLECT MY ARM LIKE I SHOWED YA! NOW!"

He once more acted out the slow motion punch, and this time, for Creed's relief, the girl reacted and moved her left arm out, almost as he had instructed earlier. But he still couldn't help grabbing her by the collar, his claws ripping through her sweater.

"HOW CAN YA MISS AN ARM AS BIG AS MINE? WHAT ARE YA? BLIND??"

She trembled and thoughtlessly yelled back at him her justification.

"You moved too slow!"

He froze, but it was only a split second. Before she even knew what was happening, he had let go of her and she was on the floor, her lip bleeding and her left cheek burning.

"How's about that? Fast enough fer ya?"

He walked away, fuming and grumbling. She remained, her back to the house and her head resting on a raised knee. Creed closed the door before he could smell the salty scent of her tears.

-----------------------------------------

"Yes! That's it!" Creed nodded approvingly. "Hey, don't stop! Keep on practicin'. I wanna make sure that ain't just beginner's luck."

Irbis nodded and once more lifted the handgun and carefully aimed at the target: a black silhouette with a red heart painted on. She once more shot three times: two times at the breast, trying to aim for the heart, and a third time at the head. Creed hadn't told her to do that, but a few action movies and some common sense had made her decide that was the correct approach.

After her third round, Creed had asked her why she was following that scheme and she shyly revealed that she had seen in a movie a hitman saying that you should always shoot your victim three times. Creed had rolled his eyes in a disgusted expression, and she had continued in a yet shyer voice: she had thought that it was best to aim at the heart first, because the breast is larger, therefore making an easier target. And that she shot twice for extra damage to heart and lungs. Then the head: it's harder to hit, because it's smaller and moves more, but diminishes the chances of a lucky escape.

He hadn't made any more gestures ridiculing her choice, so she had eased up, certain she was on a good trail there. She shot two more rounds and looked at the big blond, waiting for some feedback. She tried her best to keep her face serious, but she was ashamed of the pride she knew he could see in her eyes. She blushed. She might have hit every bullet near the centre of the target, she might even have hit the heart in the centre a couple of times, but she was well aware she took much too long aiming. There was no reason for pride. She lowered her head and bit her lower lip, feeling tears of frustration well up once more.

"Shall I keep practicing?" Her voice was so low Creed almost didn't understand her words. But her shakiness was impossible to miss.

"Nah. Ya did good enough. Just needs some workin' on yar speed aimin'. But there's time fer that. Now ya gonna learn ta take care o' yar guns."

"Yes, Mr. Creed." She purposefully forced her voice to steady itself and sound louder.

Irbis sighed as she left the shooting room. She had been secretly afraid she might be wasting bullets unnecessarily; the boss's order told her she had been right. She was going to improve her shooting abilities as fast as possible, she decided, so that she wouldn't spend much ammo.

"Sit down."

She obeyed and sat on a bench at a grey metal table imbedded in the wall. Only when Creed had told her she was going to learn how to fight and to shoot did he let her in on one of the house's secrets: a huge basement which had a large portion encased in sound proof walls for shooting practice. This inside room was divided in shooting gallery and armoury, where various weapons of all shapes and sizes were stored.

It felt strange being surrounded by so many guns and she had some trouble focusing on Creed's instructions. He decided to help her concentration and slapped her head from behind.

"From the top. This is the security switch. Ya switch it like this and the gun won't shoot, see? The handgun I'm gonna give ya, ya'll always have its security switched on. Got it?"

"Yes." She tried to rub her head without getting his attention, but she quickly gave it up when he once more stopped talking and growled at her.

"Yes, Mr. Creed. Always keep de security switch on. I won't forget."

"First of all, there's three types o' handguns: revolvers, single-shots pistols and semi-automatic pistols." He picked up a cowboy looking gun and showed it to her. "This is a revolver. It has a revolving cassette, or cylinder, usually with six chambers, where you put yer six cartridges. See how big these bullets are? They's shot at a low speed, so they can do a lot o' damage, but they take a lot o' training ta use right and have a heavy recoil. So ya ain't gonna be usin' no revolver."

Irbis nodded, afraid to ask what that 'heavy recoil' could be. It didn't really matter, she justified herself, as she wouldn't be using it; but Creed had stopped talking and was looking intently at her.

"What?" He asked irritably and she blinked. "If there's somethin' ya don't understand ya ask immediately, ya hear? I ain't 'bout ta be talkin' ta no dummies. Now what was it ya didn't understand?"

Irbis held her breath, thanking every saint she knew she had never had a teacher that could guess her doubts like that before, and blurted that she hadn't quite understood what part of the gun was heavy.

"Part o' the… I's talkin' 'bout the recoil, ya stupid brat! Not a part o' the gun." But she just stared back at him blankly. Darned foreigners! "Dar un culatazo. Ya know, when the gun forces ya back when it shoots."

"Aaah! O coice! I mean, de kick back… what did you call it? Recoal?"

Creed annoyingly threw the revolver away and picked a different gun.

"This is a pistol. Single-shots can only be loaded with one cartridge at a time, and they're no use ta ya; semi-automatics reload themselves automatically, so they're sometimes called auto-loaders. These fire more bullets than a revolver and at a higher speed, but the bullets are smaller so they don't cause as much damage. On the other hand, the RECOIL is minimum. Especially with this: a Smith & Wesson. They has a heavy medium frame and a heavy barrel, too, so ya pretty much don't have ta worry 'bout no RECOIL."

Irbis nodded, flushing at the way he pressed on with her mistake, and Creed continued.

"Now, guns have several parts. Each part has its weak points and strong points. That's why there's so many guns and models: they're fit fer different jobs. First thing ya need ta learn, is the basic parts o' the most basic guns. Ya gotta know what they're fer an' how they can help ya or blast ya. Take this."

She held the gun in her hands and gazed wide eyed.

"Like I said, this is a Smith & Wesson SW1911."

"A Smith and Wesson SW1911. OK."

Creed nodded approvingly at her attention.

"See how I take it apart an' put it back together. Pay attention. Ya'll be doin' it yerself next."

"Yes, Mr. Creed."

Her voice was low but it wasn't because she was afraid or nervous. Creed grinned at the fascination in the girl's eyes, locked on his hands as he slowly showed her to take the gun apart and told her what each part did.

-----------------------------------------

"Wait a sec. Here, slide this foot back a bit." Creed used his own foot to push Irbis's to the right position. "OK. Now don't get all tense. Remember: Yer movements have ta flow. Got it?"

She shook her head, but never took her eyes off her target. She was terribly tense. She was sure she wouldn't be able to throw the knife right. She was sure there would be an accident and it would all be her fault. With every passing moment, she felt more nervous. It was the first time she was holding a knife by the blade and that she was going to throw it against a round target hanging from a tree. How on Earth she would be able to hit the target was something she didn't know. And it was so far away, too.

"Take a deep breath and relax. An' don't forget ta throw the knife as ya breathe out."

She threw it the moment he finished talking. It didn't hit the target, obviously. But she was surprised it got so firmly stuck to the ground. Next to her, Creed was grumbling about the pointlessness of giving instructions that aren't followed.

"I thought I told ya ta throw as ya breathed out!"

She avoided his angry glare. What was the point of explaining she couldn't follow his instructions because she wasn't even breathing? He gave two short steps forward and plucked the knife from the ground.

"And what the hell were ya aimin' at? Yer feet?"

The way she was focusing all her attention on her feet was too close to an affirmative answer, and Creed sighed.

"Didn't I tell ya ta relax?" He stashed the knife on his belt and approached Irbis. "Ya ain't ever gonna do a proper throw if ya don't ease up."

She was still frowning her full attention on her shoes. He tried to suppress his own annoyance. She shouldn't be as tense as she was, and yelling wouldn't do anything else but get her even more tense. He rolled his eyes at the hole he had dig himself and got behind the girl. He placed his hands on her slouched slender shoulders to massage her tension off somewhat. The moment his hands touched her, though, her head sprang up and she tried to walk away. He held her shoulders and pinned her to the spot.

"Relax!" He growled.

She didn't move. Her heart, on the other hand, went over board with speed.

"Yer gonna black out if ya keep on holdin' yer breath fer much longer."

He felt her swallowing hard, and her whole body shuddered under his hands' slow rhythmic movements. He smelled the fear that started oozing from the girl and closed his eyes in annoyance. He was being a nice guy and all, why couldn't the girl just co-operate for once? He finally decided to stop, hardly keeping himself from throwing the kid out of his way and walking away. Talk about ungrateful brats!

"Thank you." Her voice shook harder than her body, but he could appreciate the effort she was putting into the lie. "I think I'll try again, now. I'm sure I'll make a better throw, now."

He closed his eyes. The way she was trembling, she would probably really hit her feet this time. He grounded his teeth and let his hands slide down from her shoulders until they were clutching her arms just above her elbow. They were so thin, he could have held three of the same size in a single hand.

"I ain't hurtin' ya." He hissed through clenched teeth. "I ain't gonna hurt ya. I'm even losin' my precious time ta make sure ya know how ta keep yer lousy ass outta hurt's way." And the hissing became even more threatening. "So why the Hell are ya afraid?"

He was now clutching her arms so hard, he was hurting her; but he wasn't noticing it, and she didn't even think of saying anything. She just stood there perfectly motionless.

"Why?" He growled in her ear.

She opened her mouth and started stuttering, more afraid every passing minute, which made him growl and clutch her arms even harder. As he did so, he brought her arms closer to her body and his fingers met her thin waist. Irbis suddenly let go a low shriek and somehow squirmed out of his hands. Her unexpected movement had caught Creed off guard, but he quickly shot out and grabbed the kid by an arm. Not that it was hard, she had just jumped a step away from him and turned to face him with her confused expression. He pulled her closer while she tried to squirm away, the level of her fear having dropped a bit.

"Stop it!" And at his loud growl, she answered almost with annoyance while holding the wrist of the hand clutching her left arm, in a vain attempt to get it to relax its grip. "You tickled me! Let go!!"

"What?!?"

She stopped squirming and blushed violently. Her lips trembled, unsure of what to say.

"I… you… y…"

Creed just stared at the kid. Tickled her? He had tickled her? She had been paralysed by fear in one moment and the next she was practically fighting his grip because he had… tickled her?

"What?!?"

"Could you please… ah… let go?"

He kept his gaze on her and narrowed his eyes, trying to make sense of the kid. She blinked. He had never seen her so red. She was still afraid, he could smell it, but it was a completely different fear from just a moment ago. Now it had more to do with shame and her insecurity.

"I tickled ya?" She swallowed.

All of a suddenly, a thought crossed his mind and he smelled genuine fear when he grinned and his eyes shone with mocking naughtiness.

"So I tickled ya, did I?"

"Please let go."

His grin grew wider and she tried to back away.

"Ya mean, when I did this?" His right hand was holding her arm, so the left one shot out and touched her on the waist lightly enough not to hurt her.

"Stop!" And she tried to squirm away, but his grip was adamant.

"Like this?"

He was actually smiling while he tickled her again and again. She kept squirming and shrieked every time he hit his target. Unable to evade his grip she tripped and fell, but he followed her down.

"I got this feelin' I've just found a great motivation ta get ya practicin' yer fightin' skills."

He pinned her legs down with his weight, freeing both his hands. He stopped and let her quiet down, revelling on the expression of bewilderment and incredulity.

"Now, let's see ya put ta practice all that stuff I've taught ya. Try an' get out o' this 'attack', will ya?" And he grinned mischievously.

"No, no, please no, no no no…"

But there was no begging that could have kept Creed from enjoying this new game. He laughed to himself. Who said he couldn't enjoy her screams without breaking the no-aggression contract? So there were desperate laughs in between the screams; and there was no scent of fear; and he had to keep in mind he couldn't hurt her. Who cared? It was being fun all the same! Her legs thrashed wildly under him, but they didn't have any aim. Neither did her pitiful attempts at protecting her belly and sides from his hands. He only stopped when he saw she was completely out of breath, her face soaked with tears. He let her calm down a bit.

"Now, what did we learn just now?"

She looked at him still breathless.

"Ya need ta pay a bit more attention ta the fightin' techniques I'm teachin' ya. I've taught ya a few moves already ya could have used to at least TRY ta topple me down. But did ya use 'em? Nope!"

He chuckled and got to his feet.

"C'mon."

He offered her a hand and she took it, letting him pull her up. He placed the knife in her hands and stayed behind her as he once more guided her stance. She wasn't tense anymore, yet she still jumped when he touched her shoulder and turned with a warning finger pointed out at him.

"No more tickles!"

He laughed.

"How can I gets ya ta hit the target if I'm ticklin' ya? Relax, will ya! Com'on, now."

She once more followed his instructions and got ready to throw the knife. Standing immediately behind her, he corrected her arms' position and made her rehearse the throwing movement without letting go of the knife. When he decided the movement was flowing smoothly enough, he aimed for her, silently adjusting the hand's direction. She resumed her rehearsal.

"OK, now. Breathe in, breathe out. In, out." And her hands kept moving to and fro. "In… out… in… out… in… throw."

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Thank you for reading and reviewing.


	5. Who's whose toy?

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Irbis and several short-lived bystanders; everything else is Marvel's only.

**Chapter 5**

**Who's Whose Toy?**

The alarm clock started ringing and she quickly crushed the sound off. There was never a better alarm clock than one which had an irritating non-stop bipping. She forced herself to get up and abandon the warm embrace of the bed covers. As she picked up the clothes she had prepared the day before she glanced over at the calendar. It was the 13th of September. She had been training with Creed for exactly 10 days. She shuddered.

At 6 sharp, she was already having her breakfast with Creed. The moment she finished eating, she put the dishes and glasses in the dishwasher and went out. She stretched a bit, like Creed had taught her, and started running. Creed had approved of her track around his property so she always started with it. After a while, Creed joined her. He stayed behind her, as usual, but he didn't say anything, which wasn't usual. He had the annoying habit of constantly giving her pointers: don't keep your eyes solely on the ground, dodge plants instead of displacing them, don't do that, do this… So Irbis knew something was up and tried to do her absolute best. Who knew if he wasn't simply in a bad mood? And Irbis was going to do anything to avoid making his mood worse.

They finished the circuit and Irbis had a chance to check the blonde's face. He didn't look particularly annoyed. But he was particularly cold. He was usually very professional in his coach job… a movie sergeant type of professional. Today, though, he seemed detached; as if he had his mind on something else.

"Thirty push-ups." Was all he said. No pressuring, no stance corrections, no threats of repeating all the less than perfect push-ups.

He simply leaned on the wall and watched her. Once she was done, he barked another exercise and Irbis eagerly did his bidding. She was starting to feel very uncomfortable with this change in the man's behaviour. Just the thought of what would come in a few minutes - an entire hour practicing hand-to-hand fighting skills - was enough to give her goose-bumps normally, but today she was downright spooked.

"OK. That's enough. Catch." Irbis jumped to the side and out of the knife's way.

She glanced at the man a bit confused. They usually only had knife-throwing practice after the fight practice. Then they'd have a snack, some shooting practice and would end the morning training with another hour practicing fighting techniques.

"Whatchya waitin' fer? Pick up the knife an' start throwin'! I ain't got all mornin'."

She promptly obeyed. She did the first throwing and glanced at the watch. It was almost 8 in the morning. She usually practiced for half an hour, first with the knife and then with the guns, so she was surprised when he told her it was enough at 8.15.

"Listen up, girl. I got someplace ta go, so I'm gonna let ya walk away with just this fer today." She blinked and he growled. "Get outta my sight! Ain't I just said trainin's over fer today?"

And she silently obeyed. Silently and hiding her relief. She ran upstairs and stopped to plan her movements. Then she ran downstairs. Everyday, the training would take up her entire mornings, so she'd only do some clean up after lunch, one room each day. Today was the study's day. She went through it with a devilish speed. It wasn't 10 yet when she blissfully smiled her way into the bathtub and the hot water in it. And at exactly 10.25 she was locking the door and getting ready to drive to the library. She had no idea where Creed had gone, and quite frankly she couldn't care less. Today was her well-deserved day-off!

--------------------------------------------

"Boo."

Irbis nearly jumped out of her skin under Creed's critically raised eye-brow.

"Ya scare easily, dontchya?"

She gasped her disbelief and started stuttering some word she didn't finish. Creed casually sat on her mini-van's hood, parked in front of his house's garage.

"Ya're really somethin', girl, ya know that? No wonder those guys picked ya up fer kidnappin'. Ya're a walkin' 'get me' sign!"

She stopped stuttering, but her mouth was still open. Creed glanced over her from head to toe and up again. He shook his head disapprovingly, feeling his irritation starting to build up.

"How can ya sit inside a library fer four hours non-stop just readin'?"

"I was taking notes, too!" She weakly defended herself, but her blush showed clearly she felt caught.

Creed just rolled his eyes with growing irritation and she blushed harder, setting her gaze on the ground. She was just like a school girl, he suddenly realized. A little girl caught doing something she shouldn't. Her ashamed distress was evident, and Creed pushed his point further in: maybe that would convince her to change.

"And ya ever noticed how ya walks about? Like ya askin' sorry ya're alive an' breathin'? Ya can't keep yar gaze on the ground! How are ya gonna find out if someone's taggin' ya? How are ya gonna notice things an' people 'round ya?"

Her breathing became irregular. Today, though, Creed couldn't care less if she was going to cry or not. There was no one around; so there was no need to keep his nice-guy-Jekyll mask. Besides, this was important, if he was going to turn her into something useful. And the sooner she got it into her head and started acting differently the better.

"I been followin' ya all day long. I even walked inta the library room ya were in. I openly spied yer goings. I'm probably the only face in there ya know and ya ain't seen me once! I was sittin' just a few tables away, I was walkin' ta the shelves and stoppin' ta gaze at ya… how can ya miss somethin' that obvious? Hell, I left 'cause the librarian geeks were getting' suspicious o' my movements, and YOU! Ya didn't even as much as see me!"

Irbis had turned to stone. Not literally, but close: she kept her eyes on the floor, her breathing was controlled and her whole body remained unmoving. Creed, on the other hand, was on a roll.

"How can anyone be so completely oblivious ta everythin' goin' 'bout? I could've killed ya, ya wouldn't even notice! Raise yer head!" But she didn't move so he grabbed her arm and squeezed it. "Look at me!"

Her face was a mask. Even her heart beat seemed low. But he could feel her muscles were terribly tense.

"Ya heard what I's sayin'?"

No reaction from the girl, her eyes fixedly set on his own. He growled and shook her violently.

"Answer me!"

Her heart was racing a bit now, but her body was so tense she simply remained in the exact same position. She once more locked her gaze on his eyes. Her jaws were pressed together, hard. Much too hard. She was pale and her eyes shone with determination. Determination to do what? And the only answer Creed could come up with was "determination to stay as a statue and further piss him off". He roared as he threw her to the ground.

"Get in the house! NOW!"

Her nose flared somewhat, and she got up with a kind of mechanized movement which testified how rigidly tense her whole body was. She stood for a moment, almost hesitantly; defying him, Creed thought. But even as he was about to wipe any defiance off her spirit, she turned and walked to the house.

Nevertheless, the situation didn't improve much. Once in the house, Irbis stopped in the middle of the living room and stood there absolutely motionless, facing the French windows, her back to the hall corridor. From behind her, Creed could ascertain her controlled breathing and her slightly elevated heart beat. Even with all the scorn he felt for her at the moment, he still had to admit she had guts: there wasn't the faintest scent of fear in the air.

He passed her by and went to the kitchen. He was losing his precious time with that ungrateful brat… No, he had already lost too much of his precious time with that damned brat to just go and send it all to waste. He was not going to kill her, as she so justly deserved. He wasn't even going to break their ridiculous contract and beat her up… and that was the very least she deserved. No. He was going to show her who was the boss while playing her sissy game. No abuse. No beating. No nothing.

He opened the fridge and took a beer out, opening it and taking a distracted sip. He wasn't going to give her an excuse for committing suicide. Oh, no, he wasn't. He'd break her down playing her own game. That's what he was going to do. That was the right way to break her. Make sure she knew he was the boss no matter what rules she tried to make up.

Still standing in the living room, Irbis had heard him opening the fridge and taking something out. Something made of glass. She had heard the faint popping sound as her mind had thought "beer". And wasn't that so typical. She had felt frozen. She could have just stayed like that, like a statue, for unlimited time. But the sound of the beer bottle being roughly set on the kitchen marble table had ticked something inside her.

Creed wasn't sure whether he should be surprised or not when Irbis entered the kitchen. She stood at the entrance. Her eyes had a calm determination, but they also betrayed some uncertainty. He followed her example and stood equally motionless. This was it, he realized. He had injected enough life in her to make her want to take her life's reins back into her hands. She probably wasn't sure of how to do it, though, of how to face him off and win. She'd learn soon enough there was no possible winning.

The only question that remained unanswered, Creed realized, was whether she was going to get herself killed or not. But that wasn't in his hands. It was her move, now. And he waited patiently.

"I work for you." Her voice was neither warm nor cold, but rather calm. "My job is cleaning. Gardening, if need be. Not fighting. Not shooting. Not throwing knives. Dat's your job. Not mine."

"Yer job… Girl, ya're livin' in my house 'cause I wants it cleaned. Now what happens if some yahoo gets in his head ta kidnap ya again? I tell ya what happens: I have ta drop MY job, ta come here an' get yer helpless ass outta trouble. That's what happens. And in that case, ya're more of a pain than ya're worth. So ya are gonna learn ta fight, an' ta shoot, throw knives… Hell, ya'll learn ta shoot hangin' upside down from a plane if that's what I says ya need."

But even before he finished, Irbis was already shaking her head. The moment he stopped, her voice gave him a definitive 'no'. And the fact that there was neither fear nor defiance in her whole demeanour just made it even more definitive.

"Ya gonna do what ya're told, kid…" He left the threat hanging in the air, but it had no effect on Irbis.

"No, Mr. Creed. You do what you decide to do, and I do what I decide to do. Dat's how it works." And even though the man had started growling, she kept going without a pause. "You fight. You kill. Dat's you. Your fun, your way of dealing wid things. Me, I don't fight. I run. Some guy kidnaps me, I run away. Some guy tries to gut me, I run away. One way or de oder."

"Oh, I see…" And he did, it was still too soon for this confrontation: she was going to pull her suicide card once more and he would soon be too pissed to care. "So, ya got a problem, ya just takes the coward's way out, do ya? Ya run away and hide? Or ya kill yerself 'fore someone can kills ya, huh? That's your way o' doin' things. Gee, ain't that so much better than fightin'."

But he had hit a cord. He could tell it by the way she had tensed all over; by the way she had set her jaws and held her breath for a minute. Hurt by the truth or outraged by it? Either way, it might mean she could still come round and get some sense in her head.

"I can't fight." She spoke through clenched teeth, but it was only the first sentence, as her voice got louder with each passing sentence. "Haven't you seen dat yet? Oh, yeah, I can hit a target wid a knife and shoot some paper man down. And what happens when it's a live person? What do I do? Shall I tell him to stand still so I can aim? I can't fight! It isn't in me to fight! And running away isn't coward!"

"Oh, yeah? So what d'ya call it? Bravery?!"

Creed was actually making an effort not to let go of the marble table in front of him. The idea was to give Irbis a chance to accept she was wrong, so she wouldn't dare him to kill her. Because he would give her that pleasure, and what a pleasure it was going to be! But after his own yell, he was surprised that she held her breath and then went back to her calm steady voice.

"I call it using my head." So it wasn't exactly as calm and steady as at the beginning, since there was an undertone of sarcasm. "If you can't fight a man, I say it's stupid to try and lose. If you know you can't fight him and win, den your best bet IS to get away from him and find anoder way to bring him down. If I can't fight three or four kidnappers… I distract dem and run away. And I certainly don't try to fight dem when I know I'm de one who is going to get beaten. So, it's not cowardice. It's simply not being… stupid!"

Creed held on to the table a bit harder. That worthless kid was going to wish she had killed herself a long time ago.

"And as for saying I'll kill myself… It's not cowardice. It's not! I have nothing. Nothing, Mr Creed. Can you understand what dat is? I have nothing, and I can hope for nothing!"

There were tears shining in her eyes, now, and Creed eased his grip on the table as he realized what she was really saying. She knew it was coward, suicide, she was just searching for excuses. Excuses for her own cowardice.

"Is it brave to want to hurt? Is it brave when you know you're going to hurt until de day you die and dere's nothing you can do to change? Is it brave not to want… If some guy is going to kill me in de end, I will certainly and definitely kill myself first rader dan give him de pleasure".

That was for him. She was openly telling him she knew she couldn't fight him and was simply holding on for as long as she could, and that she'd commit suicide before he might get the chance to kill her. That was her plan. Tears were trickling down her face and she stopped a moment to gather her wits before going on.

"I have nothing. No family, no friends… No one to… And please don't say I'm feeling sorry for myself, because I'm not. Dere are many people out dere who have no family and no friends, I know. But dey have freedom. Dey are free to choose wheder dey want to go on like dat, or wheder dey want to get demselves some friends and a new family. Dey can do it. Dey can choose to do it."

"And ya can't 'cause o' me. That's what ya gonna say?" Creed's sarcasm was fully ignored by Irbis, though, who simply shook her head.

"You… You gave me freedom to choose between living and dying. But dat's de only freedom you can give me. Look at me, Mr. Creed… How can I find myself friends widout telling dem about who I am? Where I come from? How can I start a family with dat kind of secrets? How can I ask for trust? How… Imagine yourself telling your girlfriend, who loves you dearly, dat you're a mutant. What if she ran away and told everyone about it?"

Creed rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of Irbis' worries, but she once more ignored him and kept on.

"I used to have many ways to choose from. I could choose my job, my friends, I could choose what to do with my family, I could… I had people who loved me and cared for me and would never let me down! I had a future to choose from! I could easily look for de things dat would make me happy! Can you understand dat? Now, I've got nothing! I'm stuck wid being hidden. Alone! For de rest of my life! Where am I going to find de things I want? De things dat make me happy? How can I make my dreams? I'm sentenced for life, and it hurts! It hurts to wake up every morning and remember all I had… all I could have one day, and looking around myself and seeing it's all gone. Seeing I can't get any of it back no matter what I do!"

She stopped to get her breath back and shook her head, a depressed smile building at the corners of her mouth.

"Minha Nossa Senhora! You are de only person dat… If I'm not completely alone in dis blasted world it's because of you! And even den it's like…. like you're a distraction of sorts for me, Mr. Creed." And he couldn't help growling at the unexpected revelation. Who was whose toy after all? "When you're around, I have so little time to think I sometimes even forget… I forget… You distract me from my problems. My pains…"

She looked to her right, still shaking her head, the depressed smell softly disappearing into pure dismay.

"I forget to think. About de past. About de future. I simply forget to think. Carassas!... You're de only person who knows who I am. De only person I can… I could…"

But she didn't finish her sentence and just let it dangling in the silence. Creed, on the other hand, had had enough time to get his temper down a notch. This conversation was going nowhere, he decided, so he got it back on the right track.

"All that's very nice, but thing is: ya're workin' fer me, an' I says ya gotta know how ta fight. Period."

She closed her eyes and expired forcefully. Then she opened them and stared straight into his eyes.

"I have little things I can choose from. But dere's still one thing I'm de one deciding. And dat's my life. I say I don't have to learn to fight, and I'm not going to train anything anymore." And she finished mimicking Creed's tone. "Period."

"Well, girl, if ya rather die than learnin' how ta defend yerself, I'll be more than pleased ta oblige." And he had already let go of the table and was coming towards her.

"Ah, poupe-me! And don't call me stupid! We both know dis has nothing to do wid me learning to defend myself. Dis is all about me being turned into your door mat and your personal watchdog for de house."

Creed stopped a couple of steps away from her and narrowed his eyes.

"Whatchya talkin' 'bout?"

She placed her closed fists on her hips and straightened herself up.

"You can call me many things, Mr Creed. Naïve, innocent, lunatic, whatever you want. But don't call me stupid. And don't treat me like I'm brain dead. Or do you think I'd be so stupid I wouldn't be able to see dat 1 plus 1 is 2?"

He crossed his arms in front of him and gave her room to continue.

"You want me alive and cleaning your house because you can use my origins as a… a ultimatum. I can't get out and get myself a proper life. So between nothing and little, I should be glad to take little. And what you must surely hate about me, is dat I'm not willing to be your slave. Because I won't. And de moment you're annoyed wid me, or bored of having me around, or de day you think I'm not dat useful anymore, you'll just kill me. Or somebody decides to kill me or whatever and you just don't see a reason to boder and getting me. Not worth it."

Irbis stared right into his eyes and raised her eyebrows.

"Am I wrong?"

She was right, Creed realized. Exactly right. She wasn't stupid, and he hated her. And he particularly hated the way she talked up to him so fearlessly when she knew all too well how stupidly helpless she was. He clenched his teeth and tensed his muscles, keeping himself from lashing out at her.

"So, tell me, Mr. Creed, please: why should I boder to do what you want, when I don't want to do it?"

Creed growled and his brain answered "Because ya'll be in a world o' pain if ya don't obey." But instead of voicing that thought, he played her game and turned the tables on her.

"No, you tell me: why bother ta stay at all? Ya're all alone half the time, why don't ya just up an' leave, huh?"

"Because! Where could I go to? You can offer me little, but it's more dan I can get outside."

And that pleased Creed. He had her back where he wanted her.

"So, between little an' nothin'… Ya're stuck with little and doin' what I want: learnin' ta fight. So ya can be my watchdog, if that's what ya wanna call yerself."

Ha! He had her now! He could tell it by the way she had clenched her teeth. But he still played the game, keeping his straight face instead of letting loose his victorious grin.

"I haven't left for two reasons. First, I made an agreement wid you. And no matter how sure I am dat you don't give a damn about it, I'm a responsible and honest person; which means I wouldn't just up and leave, like you said. I'd give you a warning first."

"Oh, ain't ya the honourable lil' thing!"

"Shut up!" Her face was red with rage, now, and she didn't even acknowledge Creed's threatening growl and the distending claws. "Dis has nothing to do wid honour. It has to do wid respect! You do whatever you do, I do things MY way, and YOU have NO right to say ANYTHING about it! Because I don't give a F------ S--- about WHAT you are or WHO you kill or WHATEVER you're going to do! Now try and show some RESPECT, for ONCE in your LIFE!"

They stood silent for a moment. Her face was still red with rage and one of her closed fists pressed hard against her hip, the other hand flat against the table top where she had just slammed it against. For a split moment, the thought crossed Creed's mind that she looked more womanly when she was mad. And for that split moment, Creed was so surprised by her unexpected ability to actually confront him – and looking unexpectedly attractive in the process – he forgot to react to her offensive behaviour. Then, in the following split second, a new thought pushed his surprise aside and he was confronted with the certainty that she had stopped speaking (or yelling) not for getting her breath back but because her hand had to be hurt from the slap on the marble.

"And keep in mind dis, Mr Creed, just because I haven't left yet, it doesn't mean I won't one day. Because de moment I think dis 'little' you have to offer isn't worth it, I will leave. I will give you a warning, and den I will leave. And if you don't like it, you can come after me and we'll see who'll get me killed first: you or me! And don't you talk about cowardice to me, Mr Creed, because I will not be like dat woman in Portland. I won't give you de pleasure."

She definitely looked more womanly. Even taller, as she once more placed both her closed fists on her hips and straightened up. Some instinct at the back of his thoughts almost had Creed stretch out his arm and grip her by the throat, for her insolent challenge; but another instinct, which had found its way to the front rows in Creed's brain, cancelled the action, since it would have ruined the image of Irbis's small breasts standing proudly tall in her defying pose. Much like a bullfighter facing a bull, only without the red caperole's protection. His gazed travelled up and down a couple of times, picturing her in a bullfighter's clothes. Yup, she had just the right pose.

"I will not let you walk all over me, Mr. Creed."

Her steady voice told him he had been silent for a bit too long, but his bad mood had been spoiled by the ridiculous contrast of her helplessness against her show of inexistent strength, and he was able to control himself and continue the word fight. He growled softly.

"So leave."

She stood still, confused; her forehead frowning with suspicion. Creed knew he was going down a dangerous path, but he wanted to see just how far she was willing to go.

"Leave! See if ya can get somethin' better outside!" She didn't say anything and he pressed on. "Oh, wait, ya got nowhere ta go, that's right. No one ta befriend. Ain't that a pity?"

She bit her lips and pressed her fists harder against her hips, straightening herself even further, growing taller a bit more. He wondered if she liked bullfights… Spanish people are nuts about it. He had been less often to Portugal, but how different could Portugal and Spain be? Outside egg recipes, obviously.

"An' what if I told ya where ya could go, huh?"

Her frown become deeper and he licked his lips.

"A place where they wouldn't give a second thought 'bout yer hidden past. A place where they'd be willin' ta help ya even knowin' 'bout who ya are? What would ya say, huh?"

She lifted her chin and crossed her arms over her breasts. Damn it, he preferred the bullfighter pose. It was far more daring.

"What place is dat?"

He growled, annoyed, as she adjusted her arms better in their new position instead of going back to the previous one. Although, truth be told, placing the arms just below her breasts did improve her cleavage somewhat.

"The X-Men. They got this Institute over in New York, and wouldn't they be eager ta help a nice lost lil' lady like yerself."

He bit his tongue the minute he stopped talking. Damn it, he had to get his mind off her cleavage: he had just said too much. The idea was to tease her about a safe haven, not to give her directions to it. Oh, perfect, back to the bullfighter pose. He licked his lips and once more let his gaze travel up and down her body.

"X-Men?" He quickly set his gaze on her suspicious eyes.

Her intense gaze was also very suiting to the pose. He hadn't noticed about that detail yet. As he also hadn't noticed the slight tinges of green amidst all the brown. She took his silently intense gaze for a 'yes' and a trap. She narrowed her eyes, searching for the trap.

"X-Men?" She repeated, now sure that the trap was the temptation: temptation to leave, thus inviting him to kill her for abandoning her job. The man's intentions were so crystal clear it was boring.

"I know who dey are. Dey are dose mutants every one is afraid of. Dis institute you talked about is a school for mutant kids. Dey're de knights in shining armour for all de mutants who are being persecuted. Deir leader is a man called Sharles Shavier, and New York was almost destroyed because of his powers. He was eider a friend or an enemy, or maybe both, of dis really bad mutant guy, Magneto. Who's already dead. Or so he's supposed to be. And Mr. Shavier, he's now gone and left everything in de hands of de X-Men, who are running de school and also a couple of teams of super-heroes, or mutant-heroes, whose jurisdiction covers mutant affairs in the entire world."

Creed cocked an eyebrow, impressed.

"Fer somebody who didn't even know what a mutant is, ya sure gone an' done yer homework."

"Dat's what I do. I study. I research. I discover things and I learn dem." She pressed her lips for a moment. "It's de second best way to forget about my… situation. I simply ignore de whole world and concentrate only on what I'm looking for. Not dat it takes dat complex a research to know who de X-Men are. At least from a 'human' point of view. But I must admit it was a bit more challenging finding out how dey're seen by mutants."

Nice looking and smart. He didn't usually like that combination in women. But what he really couldn't stand was the constant showing off of their brain superiority; and since the woman wasn't exactly pulling that one out, yet, he was willing to let it slide. For now.

"So you want me to go and join de X-Men?"

Nope, he definitely didn't want that, but he couldn't tell her that, could he? He eased the tension in his body, trying to give the girl an opening to relax.

"Just pointin' out a place where ya'd be safe from all the baddies out there. And where ya'd be welcomed, too, secrets or no secrets. Ya could even ask fer a job: have yer economical independence just like ya do here."

She laughed. It wasn't a real laugh, though, as it was filled with incredulity.

"You're calling me stupid again!" And she shook her head, unbelieving it, a teasing pleasure lighting her brown eyes. "You want to convince me to leave, so you can have an excuse to kill me? I thought you didn't need excuses to kill."

OK, he had enjoyed the bullfighter pose long enough. Now was time for getting down to business again. Only Irbis was in a roll, and had walked away a few steps, so he couldn't just stretch his arm and shake some sense into her head.

"No, Mr Creed, I have no intentions to run off to de X-Men side. First, because it isn't quite as safe as you're trying to make it sound. After all, the Institute has been destroyed a couple of times. As far as de public knows, aldough I'm pretty sure it has been attacked many more times, and possibly destroyed quite a few! So it's not really dat safe. And obviously not as safe as your safe-house's anonymity."

He actually hated smart people. Or people who just couldn't pretend to be stupid every now and then. Although he was secretly pleased someone agreed with him, about the X-fort's obvious lack of safety.

"And den, dere's de telepaths. Because de X-men have telepaths. And I'm not going to let anyone inside my head. Not even near it. Let de telepaths stay where dey are, and I'll keep my distances from dem. We'll all sleep better."

Creed couldn't help laughing. Oh, she was naïve! Her face got immediately red at the idea that he was laughing at her, but she held her ground and waited for him to explain what was so funny.

"Those X-geek telepaths ain't gonna go inside yer head, girl. They's all full o' crap 'bout people's rights an' their minds' privacy."

She bit her lower lip, unconvinced.

"It doesn't matter! Imagine dey found out about me. About who I am. And about you and your house! You'd no longer have your secret safe-house. And I may be a lot of things, but I'm not an ungrateful bitch: you may be the worst monster dat has ever lived, and you may have helped me for de most selfish reasons dere can be, but I still wouldn't be so much a bitch as to go and tell everyone where dey can come and get you!"

Creed was grinning at her, amused by her serious expression. So he witnessed how her lips twitched down in a show of dismay.

"I don't hate you dat much."

He cocked an eyebrow and his own grin disappeared as she finished.

"I don't want to. To hate you." She forced a smile. "You're my distraction, right?"

He was dead serious, now, as her forced smile faded away into dismay. Who was whose toy, after all? That was something he needed to set down very clearly so the girl wouldn't get any weird ideas. Like the ones she already had.

"Fine, Mr Creed; I give up. You win. O.K.?" She looked at him straight in the eyes. "I'll let you train me some more, if you want. But I'm not your watchdog. And you start yelling at me again, or pushing me around, or kicking and punching more dan what I think is necessary and I'll put an end to de training."

"Oh, you'll put an end to it, will ya?" Creed successfully hid the distaste over her threat, pleased that she had came around, even if not as completely as he'd like. But it wasn't really a problem. He'd train her out of her independent ways and opinions… he'd just need some more time and patience.

"Hey, you can react in whatever way you think is right. But I'll still put an end to it. One way or de oder."

He measured her up and down. Even though she wasn't mad anymore, she still had that womanly aura about her. Maybe because she wasn't slouching, apparently in fear of being seen and heard. Definitely because she wasn't being the fearful shy moron she usually was. He licked his lips, unable to avoid her steady gaze. He knew she was going to be good sport, sooner or later. Just a little longer, he told himself, and he'd be able to break her up so that she'd simply do whatever he wanted. Just a little longer…

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Creed let himself fall onto the bed and took a deep breath. It had been a full day and he was tired. Not physically, though. His tiredness had more to do with lack of real action. Following Irbis around during 6 hours had left him exhausted: she had hardly moved from her seat at the library and he had had trouble spying without being noticed by the security guards, who seemed particularly protective towards her. Obviously, he was talking about those two guards who had sounded off the alarm when she had been kidnapped. Then, it had been that hellish discussion. Keeping his murderer temper under control had definitely drained his last energies. Moreover, to crown it all, he had had a hot bath and an excellent dinner. Obviously, Irbis had had the useful insight to behave and appease him in some away. Now, he was very simply sleepy.

He lazily undressed, leaving his clothes scattered on the floor around the bed, and covered himself with the bed covers. He closed his eyes and breathed in the silk sheets' subtle scent.

He had never liked those things people put on clothes to make them perfumed as the scents were always too strong and annoyed him. Sleeping in first class hotels was particularly maddening because maids leave everything with the stench of pleasantly calming perfumes which did nothing but drive him out of his mind. Of course he had grown used to it, but it would always tick him off. That was why he instructed any cleaning agency he contracted to make sure his linen was scent free; after all, he was entitled to a peaceful night sleep when he was in his own house. But in Wausau, ever since Irbis had returned from that hellish trip to Albany and Newark, he could always count on a scent so scant it was nothing but pleasant.

He breathed in the pillows scent and ascertained this time's perfume: pine and Irbis. Excellent combination. His eyes opened. Pine and Irbis. Oh, great! He had the woman's scent in his bed. And he had just lost his sleepiness. He sat up, feeling wide awake. Of course the sheets had her scent, he told himself, she did his bed every morning. And his mind immediately conjured the image of her doing her maid work. In a very diminutive maid uniform. Only she didn't wear a uniform, so he dressed her up in shorts and a midriff top. Her hands carefully going over the entire surface of the silk sheets so they'd be perfectly stretched. Laying down on one of the bed's side and slowly stretching to take out every crease… rubbing her thighs on the… Only he had never seen her with shorts.

Frustrated, Creed laid down and wondered what she wore when she cleaned his bedroom. Naturally, her usual jeans and sweatshirt. He frowned. No, that wouldn't do. One of those silk pyjamas with shorts and shoulder straps, maybe. He dressed her up in his mind and grunted. The image just didn't look like Irbis, dressed in red silk. Then he tried light coloured cotton pyjamas with the same cut. Not exactly the sexiest thing ever, but at least it looked more like her. She once more got down to straightening creases he kept multiplying here and there. Making her turn and twist in the most unlikely yet sexiest poses he could think of.

However, with each turn and twist, Creed just felt more pissed and frustrated. He finally got up, grunting. What on hell was he doing? Irbis was as sexy as a door mat! And yet here he was fantasizing about her. When he could just go over to her room and have some real action. When he ought to just go there and…

He went to the bathroom and washed his face. What was he doing?

However, every time he tried to answer the question, Irbis's image would get in the way of his thoughts. Why? And he dwelt on her steady fearless gaze. It had impressed him, he grudgingly admitted, that she had faced him so recklessly. She was such a helplessly shy scaredy-cat! How could she have faced him? How could she have… how could she have looked so hot facing him? And he once more splattered his face with cold water, in a vain attempt to quench the heat growing inside him.

He left the room to go fetch a cold beer, but forgot his intentions the moment his eyes were set on the wall in front of him. In front of his bedroom's door. Irbis was sleeping on the other side of those walls. In her own bedroom. A previous question popped into his mind: what did she wear at night? His brain immediately fed him a picture of Irbis in a naughty wide-awake pose sporting a red assemblage of indefinite shape, outside its obvious sexiness. And even as his logic flunked the hypothesis, he simply couldn't bring himself to imagine anything else. Unable to push his fantasy down a realistic guess, Creed's logic chose a different approach and pushed him physically down the corridor till he was facing the woman's bedroom door.

He entered with his usual stealth without even meaning it. He stood next to her bed. She was curled up in a foetal position, completely wrapped in her bed covers. This was too realistically disappointing. And he still didn't know what she wore. Maybe nothing, his ever hopeful imagination quipped in. Logic immediately told him to peak under the bed covers and check for himself, and he cursed himself as he followed its instructions, even though his imagination told him not to: just more disappointment on its way!

Naturally, his imagination had been right: Irbis was wearing painfully plain winter pyjamas. He dropped the covers as she arranged herself in bed, tucking herself more securely within the bed covers. Creed watched her sleeping for a few seconds. She looked so peaceful. So safe… and yet so helplessly frail.

He took in a deep breath and enjoyed her scent. The best description for her scent was 'honest'. It was extremely rare to find a grown woman with such a straightforward scent. There was nothing masking it, nothing trying to show something that didn't exist: no perfumes nor scented creams; no creams at all, almost. No after-bath hair products, nor strongly scented shampoos. No scented soaps, either. Nothing. Just her own, honest scent. No masks. His brain suddenly interrupted his contemplation with the idea 'no femininity'.

Creed frowned. How old had she said she was? 20? He conjured an array of images of Irbis at different times and places. Yes, he had to agree. She wasn't much feminine. He reconsidered. She wasn't feminine. Except when she was mad, he conceded. And a twisted eagerness wanted him to wake her up. Because she didn't look the least attractive in her peaceful sleep. Nor in her un-sexy pyjamas; those were a definite turn-off.

He didn't register his own sigh as he realized that it wasn't really a bad thing, her lack of femininity. He considered that thought and became more confident. It was certainly a good thing: if she had had the slightest femininity quality about her, he'd have had his way with her a long time ago. Maybe he'd never even discover just how good a housekeeper and cook she was. And that would have been a loss. He remembered dinner – a strong chicken soup with boiled eggs, organs and meat pieces, and then roasted home-bred hen. Yes, she was worth the investment. Even if she might have some suicidal moments, trying to confront him. The hen memory was replaced by the equally delicious bullfighter pose and he shook his head. He tried to force his thoughts back to dinner and remembered he was supposed to be drinking a beer.

Creed looked at the sleeping woman once more. Girl, he corrected himself. Kid, he once more reconsidered. He looked at the sleeping kid, all curled up in her bed.

He suddenly turned away and left, forgetting to close the bedroom door. Her scent seemed to have impregnated the house, so he went out into the backyard after getting his beer. He breathed in deeply, clearing his sensitive nose from any particle of Irbis's scent in the night's cold and woody perfume. Pine. Creed gazed at the trees' dark silhouettes in front of him. Those were pines. His silk sheets had this same scent tonight.

Pine…

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Thank you for reading and reviewing.


	6. Women and Woods

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Irbis and several short-lived bystanders; everything else is Marvel's only.

**Chapter 6**

**Women and Woods**

Creed had spent the night in his backyard, listening to the wind travelling through the grass and the tree branches moaning softly in the dark; feeling the cold sinking to his bones until he couldn't feel it any longer; smelling the humid coldness impregnated with the pines' soothing perfume. His eyes were open, but his mind wasn't really working. He was simply there; enjoying the cool night and the dark tree mass which not even his eyes could pierce through, thus causing the illusion of a virgin forest. Only when dawn started painting the dark sky with light did he wake up.

Creed breathed in the perfume strong in the air. He remembered Irbis. What to do with her? He forced himself to think. He had thought of teaching her to fight and shoot, but… She was a kid. She was stubborn. She was smart and had her own mind very well made up. She kept his house perfectly. She cooked him excellent meals. He had hesitated, but had ended up being honest: she entertained him. Sometimes, that is; because she could also drive him out of his mind.

Irbis was a luxury item. A whim. The question was whether she was worth it. From the back of his mind, his common sense warned him against her. He should have his fun and kill her. He knew that. Creed knew. And yet… yet what? It felt good. It felt very good, coming home to Wausau. The idea startled him. Home... He had no home. But Irbis made it feel like a home. He had rarely had a housekeeper, but none had made him feel so welcomed, so… at home. There was no other word, really.

Yet this was a dangerous game. Creed knew it; that's why he told himself he should kill the woman. And still, he knew he wasn't going to kill her. Not now, and probably not in the foreseeing future. Why? For the same reason he killed people: his animal side was enjoying the pampering. So yeah, Creed decided as the birds started their morning chatter, Irbis was a whim worth keeping.

He got up and stretched. Keeping the woman meant teaching her to be independent. Teaching her to take care of herself when he wasn't around to save her ass. He was already teaching her hand-to-hand combat, but she was never going to be any good at it. She was too clumsy, too scaredy, too insecure. Shooting and knife throwing, though, was another story. She definitely had some skill, but hitting a cardboard target was no true challenge. So next he'd have to worry about training her to hit moving targets. Right. And what else should he teach her?

The trees ahead of him moved harder as the wind got stronger. The morning light was scaring the dawn shadows away, but his backyard still retained a resemblance of a virgin forest.

Creed grinned, in a good mood. Yup, there was no better place to learn how to be independent. And no better place to get used to real life shooting, either.

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Women are homely. They like being pampered. Even the fiery ones and the feminists and the femme fatales out there. They are all one of a kind: women. They don't like bugs. They don't like big outdoors and wild animals. Women like to keep themselves clean and primed as often as possible and will protest every time they get a nail broken, especially if doing something they don't like. As being in the middle of nowhere, in the woods, surrounded by bugs and wild animals.

That's why real women don't like camping. Real camping means no hot baths, no fancy skin creams or hair products, no hairdressers, no beauty salons. It means no priming and pampering.

When Irbis arrived to the kitchen, Creed was having his morning coffee. She glanced at him and asked whether he'd like some eggs.

"Scrambled." Was the short answer, followed by a warning she never ignored. "I'm hungry."

Creed watched her cooking. She wore her usual jeans and a sweater; her hair out of the way in a low ponytail. She went about her job attentively, with a serious expression. No make up. He had only seen her made up three times: first when she had gone to that beauty salon in Chicago, then during the two-night hit at the Albany nightclub. He sniffed and could tell she had showered, but there was no perfumed scent on her, just a fresh aroma which the frying bacon easily masked, making her almost invisible to his nose. Her nails were very short which made her small hands, long and slender as they were, look as if they belonged to a young teenager. One of those rare ones who hadn't yet discovered manicure. She was definitely everything but a 'woman' in the normal sense. She was very simply a kid.

Creed broke the news to her after breakfast.

"Get some stuff together. We're goin' campin'."

He was sure that, as long as she didn't think he was going to 'abuse' her in any way, she'd just shrug the news and not pay the whole idea much attention. Unless, of course she had the typical lady-like bug fear.

"Hun?" She looked at him, confused. "Camping?"

Creed rolled his eyes and grumpily explained that camping, which also meant hunting, was a good way to perfect her shooting. And since he had no intention of fully explaining his intentions, he added with a sarcastic grin.

"Besides, ya'll learn all sorts of useful stuff. Like not gettin' lost next time ya need ta get yer tail in between yer legs an' run away from some looser playin' kidnapper."

A quick frown shadowed her face for a minute, but then it melted to unwillingness. Creed growled softly, guessing he had been right: Irbis's only womanlike characteristic was the typical fear of bugs and snakes and anything else that crawls.

"But isn't it… too cold? At night. Temperatures get low… We're in de middle of September, already."

Just great! She was trying to cover up her weakness with a ridiculous excuse about cold weather in September, of all months.

"Oh! It's too cold 'cause we're in the middle o' September!" Creed looked at her with contempt. "Dontchya worry 'bout it, girl. I'm fixin' ta take ya campin' in the middle o' winter so ya can get a hang of it, too."

The idea had just popped to his head, but he thought it was a good one and grinned delighted with the shocked incredulity playing upon her features.

"Winter? But… doesn't it snow in de winter? How can we… go camping?"

There was a growing sense of dread oozing from her, which annoyed Creed.

"See it on the bright side!" He shot at her as he got up. "In winter, there ain't no bugs ta bother ya!"

Irbis frowned, confused, apparently not noticing Creed's bad mood.

"Bugs? What bugs? I'm talking about de cold. It's too cold at night; it's practically freezing! You can get peneumonia, you know. People die of peneumonia."

Creed cocked an eyebrow. She wasn't covering up a bug fear. Did she actually think September nights were freezing?

"Oh, don't say." He grinned, his mood secretly improved. "Well, don't ya worry that lil' head o' yours: I'll make sure ya won't die of no 'peeneumonia', OK?"

The next day, at the ungodly hour of three in the morning, as Irbis had put it, they took off on Creed's Land Rover.

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It was almost five in the afternoon, when Creed stopped, gazing around him. He was in the middle of a clearing and had just decided it was a good place to stop and set up camp for the night. Irbis came up behind him a couple of minutes after he had set his backpack on the ground. They had been walking since midday with only a few five minute stops every now and then, and the girl had actually been able to keep up with his pace for most of the time. Naturally, he hadn't been going at a very fast pace, since he hadn't wanted to wear her out too soon. But after a while, seeing that she could keep up, he had sped up and the result was that she was now dead-tired.

He watched her take-off her backpack and sit on the ground breathing heavily and wondered if maybe he had exaggerated. After all, he wanted her to learn how to take care of herself, not to baffle her. On the other hand, she wouldn't learn much if he went too easy on her.

"We stayin' here fer the night, so take yer tent out an' start setting it up. Ya did say ya knows how ta set up a tent, right?"

Irbis nodded her assent and fell on her knees by the backpack, starting to undo the straps around the packed tent. Soon enough, she was setting the individual green tent on the spot Creed had pointed her. The blond had already set up his own tent and watched her give the final adjustments with a silent nod of approval.

"That's good enough. OK, now, have ya ever started a fire?"

"Yes, at de camping park I usually went wid my godparents, I often did de fish and meat grilling so I know how to do all dat."

"Good. Then get ta work!" And Creed casually pointed out to the space a few feet ahead of the tents.

Irbis looked at the spot and remained as quiet as a statue, her face frowning in confusion.

"What's the problem? Ain't ya said ya knows how ta start a fire?"

Irbis looked at him and blinked, unsure of what to say for a minute. Then she said she didn't have a 'griller oven', nor any coal or lighting fluid.

"A 'griller oven'?"

"Ah… yeah…" Irbis looked about her uncertainly. "It's like… It looks like…"

"Don't bother. Com'ere."

Creed stood about 10 feet from the tents' entrance and impatiently waited for Irbis to come closer.

"Now, first rule: fires must be built in a sheltered area so that there ain't too much wind making it burn too quickly or even putting it out." Irbis nodded her understanding and he continued. "This clearing ain't too big and it's surrounded by trees all around, so ya can say it's sheltered. That's why I chose it fer a campin' site. Second rule: fires got a nasty tendency ta spread an' give ya a world o' problems, so always make sure ta build'em at least 6 feet away from anythin' around, AND clear the ground from anything that could start burnin'. That includes dead leaves an' small herbs an' plants."

Irbis once more nodded her understanding and waited for the rest of the lesson. Which came soon enough.

"Whatchya waitin' fer? Start cleanin' a 6 feet circle till it's nothin' but bare earth. Move!"

She didn't need much more incentive, even if Creed had to explain to her that 6 feet were more or else 2 meters. By the time she was finished, Creed had already brought together a good amount of wood and dry sticks. So then she learned that there are many types of fires with different aims.

"Today, ya gonna learn ta build a star fire. They's easy as they can get, an' don't take too much fuel. Now, here's how ya start any fire. First, ya need tinder, which is somethin' that ignites real easy. We got here some shredded bark, which is good fer that, but ya can use anythin' that's small, absolutely dry and flammable, like cotton balls, dried up moss, or whatever."

Creed handed Irbis a match and encouraged her to light the small pieces of shredded bark. A flame immediately sprang to life.

"Good. Now here, feed it these twigs. They's what's called kindlin'. If ya put a big piece o' wood on top o' that small flame ya gonna put it out, so ya kindle it first with these small pieces o' wood. Just remember ta add the twigs one by one, or ya'll smother the fire all the same."

Irbis refrained herself from reminding Creed she knew how to take care of a fire, even if she always used coals and lighting fluids. She waited for the flames to rise higher then reached for the logs he had piled by her side. He warned her that those were what's called hardwood, because they last longer when being burned.

"No, no, no! Ya can't put'em logs all like that! Here, ya place'em as if ya was makin' an image of a cart wheel. See, the end o' the logs meet at the middle o' the fire, but ya don't pile no logs. Just make sure there's more o' the kindlin' in the middle."

Dinner was eaten early. Creed had placed in her backpack some canned food, which just needed opening and leaving near the fire to be heated. Then they simply ate from the can. They had already eaten some more of that canned food during the day, but those had been eaten cold as Creed hadn't wanted to build a fire before settling for the night. It was a silent dinner, accompanied by the day light's slow retreat. Before it became dark, the site had already been thoroughly cleaned, with any garbage hanging from a tree a few feet away from the camping area and all the food safely hidden outside the tents as a security measure against bears and other predators.

Sitting side by side near the fire, Creed decided to probe the girl a bit and asked her how she felt after this first day.

"A bit tired, I guess. But it's dat nice kind of tiredness. It feels good."

"Ain't afraid o' no bears showin' up, or snakes crawlin' inside yer sleepin' bag?"

Irbis chuckled.

"Nah! I like snakes, and I'm sure you wouldn't let a bear eat me up, after all de work you had putting up wid me." She smiled at the big blond at her side. "Are you trying to frighten me?"

"Most women don't like no wild animals."

"Well, dey don't annoy me. What does annoy me is food, and I noticed dere aren't any more canned food. What are we going to eat tomorrow? I hope it's not hunting or fishing or something like dat, because I'm sure we'll both die of hunger before I can learn how to catch anything."

Creed couldn't help laughing, good-naturedly, and he reassured her he was carrying plenty of food in his own backpack. Then he explained to her why she had been the only one of the two bringing canned food.

"When we start walkin' again, tomorrow, ya'll see just how much lighter yer pack will be. See, canned food is all nice an' well, but it's too heavy an' hoards up too much room. I got some de-hydrated food packages in my own backpack which is much better. They should last us four more days. By then, we'll be just where I wants us, so I can teach ya ta hunt. An' fish, too."

Irbis embraced her knees, still smiling and sighed. The forest ahead of her was a wall of darkness which the fire could never light. It felt strange being out here with the big, dangerous blond as her only company. Creed had driven non-stop since Wausau till Duluth, which was a town only a few miles after leaving Wisconsin and entering Minnesota. They had arrived there around a half past seven in the morning, and after breakfast he had driven for another three and a half hours, through a growingly thick forest and vanishing signs of urbanizations. After lunch at Saganaga Lake, deep in a conifer forest and near the border with Canada, they had left the car and started walking west, away from the most visited camping areas. Irbis had slept through the first leg of the journey, so she wasn't particularly sleepy; but she couldn't stop thinking that Creed should be dead tired.

"Well, I guess I'll go in and get some sleep." She ended up saying, sensing that Creed would never show any sign of tiredness because of his macho pride.

"'Night."

Irbis stopped for a moment. The man had never wished her good-night before. She hesitated a moment longer, looking at him. He was sitting in a very relaxed position, gazing at the dieing fire. 'He must be in a very good mood,' she finally told herself, and she couldn't help smiling.

"Good night, Mr. Creed."

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Thank you for reading and reviewing.


	7. Camping

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Irbis and several short-lived bystanders; everything else is Marvel's only.

**Chapter 7**

**Camping**

There were lakes everywhere. Some were huge, others just big; some others yet were neither big nor small. Then there were small lakes, ponds of all sizes and shapes and swampy areas. And, naturally, there were brooks and springs flowing everywhere. The forest was thick with trees, which Creed had explained to be mostly firs and spruces mixed with a few white and red pines, and some maples, aspens and birches near water ways. But to Irbis's eyes, all the trees were alike: northern countries' pine trees, as opposed to the Mediterranean type of pine trees. As it was, she felt completely lost. If Creed had decided that she should try to find her way back to Saganaga Lake and his Land Rover, she was sure she'd end up in Alaska instead.

The only thing she knew how to find was the camping site. Creed had taught her the scouts' way of marking tracks with stones and pieces of wood and she was getting very good at it. So good, in fact, that she was now learning new ways of marking her tracks in a less obvious fashion: bending some twigs, scraping the bottom of a tree trunk, clearing a very short area, and so on. Irbis herself was devising new ways of marking her track, thus learning by herself which marks worked best and which did not.

Nevertheless, learning not to get lost wasn't really Creed's main intention when they left the camping site each morning.

"OK, seein' this? What animal left these?"

Creed was squatting near some animal droppings, and Irbis had just squatted next to him. She had been learning how to identify and follow animal tracks ever since they had mounted a definitive camp, six days before. She still had many problems, but Creed believed she was improving. All she needed was time and practice. Much time and much practice.

"O.K…." Irbis sighed and spoke up her thoughts so Creed could correct her if she was following a wrong path of thought. "It's round dung, so it's an herbeevoroo. A small animal, because dey're very small."

Irbis looked around carefully and identified part of an animal track. But the tracks weren't well printed onto the earth. She sighed once more before continuing.

"Well, de front feet are here, and dis must be one of de rear feet… De track isn't very good…"

"It's good enough fer ya ta identify what animal it is." The growled warning was answered with another sigh, but the girl's voice came right after it so Creed gave her some time to finish her assignment.

"De two front feet are small and landed first… and de rear foot print is ahead of de front feet print and a bit to de side. So it's a rodent." Creed nodded, displeased with how long the girl was taking. "I think it's a squirrel, because de rear foot is very small."

The moment she finished speaking, a hand hit her on the head. Creed always did that when she was wrong. The bigger the mistake, the harder the hit.

"I told ya once, I told ya a thousand times: if front feet prints are diagonal, it's a land dweller; if they's side by side, it's a tree dweller. Now look at those two prints. Are they side by side or is one higher up than the other?"

"Rabbit." Irbis whispered defeated. "I'm sorry, I forgot…"

"Dammit, girl. Prints can be good or bad, and ya can have a chance ta identify the animal or not; but ya always gotta look ta every lil' sign ya got available. An' not just stick ta whether the prints are big or small."

Irbis hung her head in shame, as Creed continued, pointing to the plants the animal had nibbled in the rabbits' most typical fashion. Then she followed Creed without hesitation when he moved on.

Some 20 feet ahead of their camping site, there was a very wide lake. On the day they had arrived, as soon as they had set up camp, Creed had brought Irbis to the muddy margins of the lake and imprinted some fake tracks on it. Then he had repeated those same marks on some sandy floor a couple of feet away. Ever since then, they had visited the marks regularly and done new ones, so that Irbis could learn to understand the way prints age. Today, as usual, Creed squatted for a few minutes near the prints on the mud and heard Irbis describe some characteristics of the ageing prints. After that, he complemented her words with some more detail and they moved on.

It was still early when they arrived to the "shooting hall", as Irbis called it. This was where she practiced shooting against moving targets. Creed had decided not to have her hunting animals with firearms just yet. So instead, she got to shoot a leaf-filled bag hanging from a tree and swinging around. Her aiming abilities quickly proved that she wouldn't go out shooting real animals any time soon.

"Give it up, already!" Creed called out from behind Irbis after only five minutes. "It ain't like ya'll ever manage ta hit the darned target."

In fact, Creed himself had stopped hoping her aim might miraculously improve. True, she aimed much faster when the target wasn't moving. That was a breakthrough that had pleased him and which diminished his annoyance at her obvious lack of shooting capacities. So the girl couldn't shoot moving targets! So what? If the target wasn't moving, she'd be able to shoot it dead with a single bullet. That wasn't so bad. "It ain't like I'm trainin' the kid ta be an actual professional," Creed kept telling himself, "she just has ta know some defense basics. That's all!"

Knife throwing was another story altogether. Her aim had improved a great deal, but she still needed a lot of time aiming, which meant no need to go into moving targets. If she couldn't hit a moving target with a gun, she could never do it with a knife. This day, though, Creed had decided to move her training up a step.

"Ya ain't gonna be aimin' at the bag, today. We goin' back ta hitting a tree." Creed grinned at her confused frowning and set himself in front of the tree trunk. "Ready. Now hit the area right above my head."

He almost chuckled at the way her eyes nearly popped out of her head. Then she started stuttering, half panicked, swearing she could never, ever...

"Quit the babblin' already, kid! I said ya're gonna throw the knife and hit the area 'bove my head an' that's exactly what ya gonna do. And ya better not hit an inch lower!"

Creed waited patiently as Irbis sighed and took deep breaths and aimed over and over before finally throwing the blade. Which went flying up into the foliage. Creed looked up at the knife sticking firmly out of the tree eight feet above the ground.

"Maybe I wasn't clear enough. I was talkin' 'bout this part right above my head. Not the top o' the tree." He looked at the embarrassed Irbis and casually moved to the side, leaning on another tree and taking out a cigar. "Ya can go fetch the knife yerself."

He watched her come closer and look up at the knife with a discouraged expression. With a sigh, he decided to help her.

"Ya got five minutes. Don't keep me waitin'."

Four minutes and twenty-three seconds later, both Irbis and the knife were ready to start over.

"Dammit, kid!" Creed finally exploded after Irbis's third try. "Ya been hitting yer targets' bull's-eye fer almost a week, now! How the hell have ya missed it completely these last three times? Ya needin' glasses all o' sudden?"

Irbis didn't let herself get thrown off by Creed's anger and quickly ran after the knife. When she was returning, seeing Creed's angry scowl right ahead of her, she confessed her fear of hurting him.

"Fer cryin' out loud! Don't ya think I can duck out o' harms way if I sees it comin' towards my head 'stead o' the tree? Whadd'ya think I am, a newbie?"

"Mas…"

"Shut yer yap with all yer 'mas' and 'buts'! And what if ya hit me? I got a healin' factor, girl; look!"

In a swift movement he slashed his own arm open. Eyes wide, Irbis staggered backwards a couple of steps. Looking at her, Creed waited just a few seconds before shaking some blood off the arm and revealing the closing wounds. Irbis just blinked, a confused expression shadowing her face.

"So, like I said: ya's gonna throw that darned knife at me and ya will NOT be worryin' 'bout whether ya hit me or not. Are we clear?"

Creed saw her gaze slowly leave his now healed arm for his face. But the only thing she said was a very unsure "mas". He was at the end of his patience.

" But what! Yer supposed ta be gettin' ready ta hit real people, ya moron! Or what? A guy shows up ta kill ya and ya don't throw a knife at him 'cause ya're afraid ta hurt'im? 'S that what ya're plannin'?"

Irbis frowned and pouted slightly at the unfairness of the situation, but didn't lower her head as she always did when Creed complained of something wrong she had done. How dare he yell at her for being thoughtful of his well-being! The moment he told her to get back to her place and throw the knife again, she rebelled and threw the knife at her feet. That got the blond's attention, who started growling.

"If someone tries to kill me, I won't have any troubles throwing him a knife and killing him! But dere's a big difference between hitting someone who wants to hurt me and someone who doesn't want to hurt me. Like you! So I'm so very sorry I don't want to hurt you."

And her indignant pout grew more intense. Creed didn't let her unexpected bout slide by, though. He walked up to her and caught her by the arm, squeezing it slightly.

"Look here, kid, I been playin' the nice guy so far, but ya don't wanna get me mad. Next time I tells ya ta do somethin' ya just do it. An' right now, I wants ya ta go there an' throw me the darned knife." He gazed into her stubborn brown eyes before continuing. "And ya gonna be aimin' right at my midriff."

Creed's face remained deadly serious as Irbis's pout transformed into incredulity.

"I'm not going to hurt you!" She almost whispered in disbelief.

"Are ya gonna obey?"

She was breathing heavily now, her eyes straying through his face. Creed could easily identify the confusion that melted her members from the rigidity of her former stubbornness, but there was no sign of fear in her. It annoyed him that she didn't fear him, or at least his bad mood; and yet if she had feared him, he knew he would have hurt her immediately. The scent of fear had that effect on him.

"I… I'll throw de knife at you, Mr. Creed…" she swallowed before continuing. "But I will - not - hurt you."

She blinked, her heart beating hard, but still not afraid. Open mutiny, though, was more than Creed could take and he roughly pushed her back. Not expecting it, Irbis tripped and fell. When she looked up, Creed had taken a few steps back.

"Pick up yer knife." The moment he said it, his own claws popped out, and he was pleased that the girl had caught her breath. "Are ya gonna stop me with that knife, or d'ya prefer ta get cut?"

The man's amber eyes had no touch of naughtiness. There was no grin to hold back, either. Irbis's hand shot out and got the knife back in her power, quickly springing to her feet and taking some steps back. Creed growled softly. Now, there was fear starting to ooze from his prey.

He gave one step towards her. She looked around, scared now, and ran towards the closest tree, getting her back firmly against it. Then she faced him once more. He walked towards her. Not fast, not slowly. But definitely giving her a chance to throw the knife. When she just clung to it, he moved faster. One more step and he had one hand around her neck… but she also had the tip of the blade touching the man's chest.

Irbis's brown eyes met Creed's with stubbornness. There was no more fear in her when Creed clenched her neck harder, making her breathing difficult. He could feel the tip of the blade, but he could also feel her muscles telling him she wouldn't fulfil the threat.

"Ya made yer decision, kid."

Irbis closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. Creed felt the blade's pressure on his chest diminish, and he got even angrier. The darned kid was a blasted fool and she was going to get exactly what she deserved. His claws found some vein free spots on her neck and broke her skin in five different places. Creed was growling, shivering with the effort not to break Irbis's neck right there and then. He saw her face contort somewhat with the slight pain of his claws slowly cutting her, and she parted her red lips. But there was still no fear. Just plain stubbornness.

All of a sudden, Creed grinned. Keeping her eyes tightly closed, her whole body tensed, Irbis didn't see it. All she could feel was the pressure on her neck, and five points in her neck burning with a very slight but insidious pain. She knew the man's claws were slowly puncturing her skin. She wondered if he was going to go through with it and kill her, or if he'd stop and… and… just beat her up? She didn't know. But she did know she was not going to yield to the man. She was not going to hurt him. She was not.

Then she noticed that the pressure of Creed's hand on her neck was moving. The hand's slight movement hurt the small wounds on her neck and she held on to the knife even harder. Then she felt some sort of warmness approaching her lips and frowned. She didn't have time to form a coherent thought on what was going on, though, as Creed started kissing her roughly. Once more, she didn't think.

Opening her eyes as she slid to the side, the first thing she saw was Creed with a knife sticking out of his chest. Then she tripped and fell. When she once more looked at the blond, he was grinning at her from the top his height, the knife still in his chest.

Creed felt his anger subside under his victory, pleased that he had twisted the kid's intentions and made her do what she didn't want to. He wondered what her reaction would be. Scream? Sulk? Throw a tantrum? It made no nevermind. Next time, she'd know better than to openly disobey him.

Irbis was still on the ground, breathing hard and staring at him with her sweet tasting mouth half-opened. Her lips quivered. Then her shoulders shook for a single moment, and she punched the earth.

"Raios o partam! You had no right! You cheated! I was not going to hurt you! I was NOT! It was your fault!"

Creed grinned at her, plucked the knife out and threw it at her feet. Blood was flowing freely from the wound, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Oh, minha Nossa Senhora!" Irbis got up and moved towards Creed. "It's bleeding so much…."

She stopped hesitantly just one foot away from him, and looked at the wound not knowing what to do. Her concern, though, irritated Creed. What was she so worried about, after all? He roughly hit her and made her fall again.

"Stop staring like a dumbass! This ain't nothin'. Ya just keep in mind ta do as I tells ya. I ain't gonna put up with another tantrum like that ever again, got it?"

But Irbis was mad. She banged the earth with her closed fists and talked back even without getting up.

"Raios o partam! Seu estúpido!"

That was too much. She had hardly finished talking and Creed was already holding her neck, again.

"Who d'ya think ya're calling stupid, ya lil' bitch?"

There were tears streaking down her face, now. Unfortunately, Irbis was too mad to register the threat holding her neck.

"I did NOT want to hurt you! You stupid…"

Before she could let out another word, though, Creed held her throat so tight she couldn't breathe. All he could hear was his own growling, as the girl bucked weakly under his strong arm, her eyes very wide. And yet there was no fear in the kid. Just surprise, as she gazed at the man's bared fangs and her vision slowly blurred away into darkness.

Creed let go before any permanent damage could have been done. How could a helpless frail like that dare to talk back and call him stupid… Stupid, of all things! Unable to resist the anger in him, he kicked her legs, which were closer to him. Damned brat! And yet, her wide brown eyes, just before she had slipped away to unconsciousness, had looked so… stupid! He could have killed her. She should have been afraid!

He paced to and fro, for a minute, his anger still boiling. He'd make her fear him. He'd be damned if he didn't!

-----------------------------------------

Amidst the darkness, Irbis glimpsed the warmth. Her body shivered involuntarily and she tried to open her eyes. Pine needles were waving softly above her head. Birds were chirping and she could hear some noises which she had only just learnt to associate with squirrels. She slowly forced herself up. Her neck was hurting, and she suddenly remembered why.

"Estúpida. Estúpida, Estúpida, Estúpida!"

She kept calling herself stupid for a few minutes, until realizing her legs were hurting, too, and she couldn't recall any reason for it. She felt a shiver run down her spine as she realized that Creed could have done whatever he wanted to her while she had been out. Returning to her "Estúpida!" mantra, she got up to her feet and slowly directed her footsteps towards the camp site.

She had no idea how long it took her to return. It felt like forever, but then again, it also felt as if time had stopped. Sure enough, Creed was lying back near the fire. Irbis hesitated a second before continuing walking towards the fire. The man didn't give any sign of having noticed her presence. She sat down close to his feet, and looked at him. He didn't seem so big when he was lying down.

"I'm sorry."

Creed popped one eye open and lazily looked at the kid, sitting at his feet like a lost puppy.

"I'm sorry." She repeated in a louder voice. "I… I shouldn't have called you… I shouldn't have. Called you names. Offended you. I'm sorry."

He humphed and closed his open eye, apparently going back to his lazy slumber. Irbis looked at him and pressed her lips together. Then she took a deep breath and shot out in one go.

"But it was your fault. You cheated. You made me lose my temper." Creed growled and got up, a hand ready to snatch at the brat. "But I AM sorry!"

He was squeezing her forearm as she repeated the last sentence two more times, staring deep into his amber eyes. Creed kept on growling as he saw the urgency to placate him in her eyes, even if he could smell no fear.

"Ya're lucky ya're still alive, kid. But I swear ya're gonna die very painfully if ya ever go over the line again."

"I don't understand you."

"I'll make it simple fer ya: ya talk back again, an' I gut ya. D'ya understand now?"

Irbis shook her head.

"No. I mean, yes… I mean… I don't understand why you did dat. Why did you want me to hurt you."

She looked at him with a troubled expression and Creed let go of her arm, still growling softly.

"Ya gotta learn ta defend yerself, even if it means hurtin' somebody. And if I says ya gonna practice it on me, ya do it. No buts."

Irbis closed her eyes for a short moment and sighed. Then she looked away from Creed, to the fire, and shook her head softly.

"Ya gonna learn ta obey, kid, whether ya like it or not."

That was essential. To turn her into his 'door-mat', as she had said before, Creed very simply had to teach her to obey without complaining. Unfortunately, he couldn't just beat the notion into her head.

"I will obey you, Mr. Creed." Her voice was very soft but Creed noticed the stubbornness of the idea he was sure still stuck to her mind. "But I… you don't understand: I can't just… just hurt you like dat. I can't, Mr. Creed."

"Don't see why not. Ya did it just fine a while ago."

Irbis looked at him, her eyes hard with annoyance.

"You had no right! And I didn't hurt you: you hurt yourself! You… you tricked me into… into… Into hitting you wid de knife. You cheated."

Creed raised an eyebrow as he noticed her getting blushed.

"Ya mean… I cheated when I kissed ya?"

The colour rushed to her face and she took a deep breath, not releasing the air for a while.

"You. Cheated!"

She stared at him fully blushed. Creed shook his head with disdain.

"Ain't ya supposed ta be twenty or somethin'? Ever thought of actin' a lil' bit more mature-like?"

Irbis looked away from him, apparently sulking, and Creed rolled his eyes. It certainly takes a kid to stick to the infamy of a 'cheat' and ignore everything else, he thought. Nevertheless, her resistance to his simple order annoyed him. Who on earth wouldn't take the chance to get back at him? He got up and looked down at her, cursing his darned curiosity.

"Fine. I don't understand. Now, how's about ya explain just why can't ya stuck a knife in my chest like any normal person, huh?"

Irbis glanced at him for a split second and stared hard at her feet.

"You don't understand…"

"Will ya get over it already? Ya says I don't understand one more time and I'm bustin' that pretty face o' yours."

She looked back at him and blinked, apparently offended by something. Her chin contorted in a slight sulk and she looked away as if controlling her temper.

"Look, you… I mean…"

Creed crossed his arms and stood his ground, looking down at the hesitating Irbis.

"Minha Nossa Senhora, no que é que eu me estou a meter…" She shook her head once more and started talking to the ground. "Mr. Creed. You… I know you are a killer, OK? I'm not stupid, and I haven't got any amnesia eider, so I remember dat woman in Portland very well. So I know you are a killer. And I know you enjoy killing. And… qual é a palavra… What's dat word when you… Nevermind! You like killing and torturing. Period."

"Is that what I'm supposed ta not understand?" Irbis acknowledged the man's annoyance with another deep breath and a sigh.

"What you don't… Olhe… Look. I know you think I'm crazy, OK? I mean, I know I'm crazy, so… But de thing is, you're… please, don't take dis wrong, OK? It's just dat… well… You… you're de closest thing I've got to a… a… a friend."

"A what? Friend?! FRIEND?! Who on Earth got ya convinced I'm yer blasted FRIEND?"

"I'm not saying you are my friend!" And as unbelievable as it might have been, she simply kept talking to the ground. "What I'm saying is dat you are de closest thing to… a friend. It's not like you are my friend. I mean… it's pretty obvious you're not my friend. No one can even say you're a friendly boss!"

Creed was glaring at the girl as she supported her head on her hands.

"I… Dere are many people around dat I know and… OK, maybe dere aren't many people, but dere are some people I know and wid who I… I suppose you could say I'm friendly wid. But we can't really be friends, I mean…"

Finally she looked up at Creed, only to meet his slightly bared fangs and acknowledge his annoyed growling. She quickly stared back at her feet. Her shoulders slumped and she got up, but she still didn't look at Creed.

"All I'm saying is dat… I can't be friends wid people I… I can't… openly talk to! I mean, whenever I start a conversation, I'm always extremely careful not to say anything dat may get dem suspicious about who I am or where I come from. I'm terribly afraid of making some blunder dat makes dem look at me like I'm crazy! How can anyone think of me as a 'friend', when I can't give dem any reason to trust me? How, if I don't have the slightest thing about me dat is normal? If I don't even… I can't even show I trust dem by telling dem anything about me. Dey'll know I don't trust dem. And how can dey possible want to be friends wid me, hun? How?"

Irbis looked at Creed. There was defeat in her eyes, he realized.

"You know all about me. So… in a way, if dere's someone I could be friends wid, it would be you. Not dat you are, OK? I don't mean to offend you by suggesting you could be my friend."

"So, let me see if I get this. Ya can't make friends with other people, 'cause ya can't tell'em yer secrets; not ta mention ya're afraid they'll think yer crazy if ya says somethin' they think's wrong. And… 'cause I knows all about who ya are… ya's afraid ta hurt me. Am I missin' somethin'?"

Irbis grimaced.

"I… It's just dat I feel bad, OK? Hurting you. I mean, it's not dat I'm afraid you're going to hurt me back or anything, because you're de one who told me to throw you de knife, but… I admit it sounds a bit strange, but…"

"I guess, since I knows everythin' 'bout ya and all, ya ain't much bothered if I thinks ya're a complete looney, huh?"

She sighed at the sarcasm in his voice, but she still insisted. Creed realized how important it was for her that she could win his understanding over this matter.

"I knew you wouldn't understand. Mr. Creed, it's like dis. You're de only person in dis whole world who knows who I am, OK?" She waited for him to nod before continuing. "dat makes me feel… Please, don't take this wrong. But it makes me feel… close to you, in a way. I can… I feel bad with de idea of hurting you! Dat's it, basically. I don't mind killing someone. You know dat. You've seen me kill a guy before. Cut him up. Don't you remember? Why do you insist I have to practice hurting somebody? I don't understand! I don't want to hurt you. I mean… You made me stick a knife on you! You say I'm crazy? What about you?"

"Who're ya callin' crazy, ya lil' bitch?" Creed's hand once more grabbed her forearm, but she was in a row.

"I don't ask you to stick a knife on me!"

"No. Ya do it yerself!"

It annoyed Creed that bruising her forearm – again – had had less effect on shutting her up rather than reminding her of her suicide attempts.

"Dat… Dat was different. I wanted to die. You're doing it… for sport. I don't like getting hurt for sport."

"I don't want ya ta throw knives at me fer sport, ya stupid brat, it's ta teach ya somethin'!"

"But I don't want to hurt you!"

"Why not? Everyone else does! People just love going 'round hurtin' one another. Ya talks 'bout how ya wants friends and can't get'em… ya should be happy ya don't have ta put up with their crap!"

Irbis looked at him in silence for a little while. It seemed to Creed she was searching for something in his face, in his expression, but which she failed to find. Getting tired and wanting to end this stupid discussion, he popped his claws and scratched her left arm from the elbow to the wrist before she could react. Then he took a knife from its holster on his belt and placed it in her hands.

"Here." He exposed his own arm to her. "Yer turn. I cut you, you cut me. And since I got a healin' factor that's gonna heal it up long 'fore those shallow scratches I made ya, make sure ya make it a long, deep cut."

She was frozen for a moment, looking up at him. Then she looked down at his arm, almost mesmerized. After a long minute, when Creed patiently waited for his prey to bite the bait he had so carefully thought out, Irbis took a deep breath and made up her mind. She swallowed and slowly covered his wrist with her hand, applying a very light pressure downwards. Looking up at the blond's annoyed expression; she mouthed her words softly but determinedly.

"You heal fast, I know. But I don't think your healing factor can diminish de pain you would feel if I cut you. I do not want to hurt you, Mr. Creed. I don't care if you don't understand, or if you won't have any problems hurting me. - I - don't want to hurt - you -!" She blinked at him, her eyes almost begging. "Please. If you can't understand why, don't. Just accept dat… dat I don't want to hurt de only person in dis whole world who has done something to help me. I know! I know you didn't do it because you cared for me or my life. I know it was simply because you wanted a housekeeper and you decided I was it. I know dat you helped me only because of you, not me. But it doesn't matter to me. I - don't - want to hurt you."

Creed had been patient and understanding; and he had held on for long enough.

"Ya don't wanna hurt me, huh?"

Irbis nodded a bit uncertainly and then fell to the ground, her lip cut and bleeding. She blinked in shock and surprise as she had never even seen his hand coming.

"Well, ya're right at least 'bout one thing, ya lil' bitch: I ain't got no problem hurtin' you!"

He kicked her viciously across her stomach, and grinned at her muffled yelp. She lay gasping on the floor just a couple of feet away. He walked towards her and grabbed her hair, pulling up her face. Her eyes were wide with surprise, but there was no fear. He didn't say anything and she blinked, her lips slightly apart as she took deep breaths and gazed up at his cold amber eyes.

The growl started out so low, not even Creed noticed it. But when he hit her on the face with his full force, the roar echoed through the forest. The kid bounced and her body rolled over with the sheer force of the hit. But Creed's pent up rage had just started to be released. Roaring wildly, he kicked apart the carefully built fire, letting the coals die out. Then he lashed out at the closest tree. It was a young flimsy aspen, and it broke in two without much resistance.

Creed paused for a single moment, panting with rage, and his eyes contemplated Irbis's unconscious body. How dare she not fear him? How dare she? Let her wake up! Then she'll see! But she had not yet woken up and he was already next to her, kicking her once more across the stomach. He grabbed her by the T-shirt's collar, his claws ripping through the fabric, and lifted her off the ground. But no. This would be no good. She had to be awake, he once more told himself. Growling, he threw her back to the ground.

Creed turned around. No, this would never do. And he was already shredding apart the tent closest to his rage. He'd kill her long before she could have the chance to wake up. Roaring his frustration, he started away from the camp site, thrashing down trees and branches which stood in his way.

He'd teach her how to fear him. He'd be damned if he didn't!

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Thank you for reading and reviewing.


	8. Meeting Some Fellow Campers

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Irbis and several short-lived bystanders; everything else is Marvel's only.

**Chapter 8**

**Meeting Some Fellow Campers**

It was already late when Creed finally stopped. He was tired, after having spent the entire afternoon running through the woods, attacking random trees and branches, and even killing a stubborn elk bull that had been too proud to move away from harm's way. The animal's stubbornness and defiance had reminded him of Irbis, which had made him go into such a raging frenzy; he had not only killed the animal but actually shredded it to pieces. Partially refreshed after the blood bath, he had wished Irbis had seen the attack. He had no doubts that the vision of the completely torn apart animal would have inspired fear in the kid.

But then again, maybe she wouldn't have been scared. And that simple thought had once more boiled his blood.

But he was calm now. Hungry, maybe, but calm. He realized he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, thanks to Irbis's stupidity. Why couldn't the kid just fear him like any normal person? Creed recalled how he had so generously helped her, saved her life (twice, already!), offered her a royally well paid job which required so little of her, and he was even teaching her how to defend herself. And what did she do? She rebelled against him! It was unbelievable. The ungrateful little bitch.

Creed kicked a tree in front of him and a hare sped out of its lure. Darn, he was hungry. And that was Irbis's fault, too! He sniffed the air. He didn't feel like going back to the elk meat - he wasn't so hungry he'd be willing to eat hours-old minced meat. Going into stealth mode, Creed wandered around and into a swampy area. Prints on the mud warned him that a deer and its young had gone that way a few minutes before. He licked his lips.

Ten minutes later, mother and young were under his eye. He approached them very slowly. The doe sensed something and looked around nervously. Creed froze. He focused his attention on the young. It wasn't close enough just yet, and there were too many chances of missing it. Creed wasn't willing to fail this hunt: he was hungry for tender meat, and if he couldn't have Irbis's, he was going to have that fawn's.

He stood perfectly still long enough for the doe to calm down. Then he started moving. Keeping his crouching position, he transferred his weight to his left foot and once more waited before lifting his right foot and bringing it a couple inches forward. Carefully, he started setting down his foot but stopped suddenly when he felt a twig threatening to break under his boot. Ever so slowly, he once more lifted his foot and lowered it slightly to the side.

Creed didn't like hunting with boots precisely because of this: it was much easier to stalk when he was either barefoot or wearing light leather shoes, similar to Indian moccasins. If it weren't for his heightened senses, for instance, he wouldn't have noticed that twig and his prey would have been warned of his presence by its breaking. He wished he had remembered taking off the darned boots, but the only thing to do now was being extra mindful of the material underfoot.

Ten minutes later, and Creed had crept a few precious inches closer to the feeding fawn. A gust of wind warned him that the wind's direction could change at any minute, so he decided to make his move. Creed watched the fawn carefully and tensed up every muscle in his body, ready for a sprint. The animal hopped around its mother playfully, sometimes stooping to taste the grass, sometimes bugging the doe for some milk.

All of a sudden, Creed jumped forward and sprinted for his prey. The puzzled creature stared at its attacker for a single moment and sprang to the side, trying to turn around as fast as possible so it could follow the doe's flight. Had the fawn had its back to the predator and it might have had escaped. As it was, Creed was able to scratch one of the hind legs hard enough to break the young's impulse. Another two steps and he was crushing the animal's neck.

As Creed fed upon the tender meet, he felt much more relaxed. Fresh tasty meat dripping blood often had that effect on him. It was getting dark, now, and he started thinking about Irbis. His blood didn't boil at the thought of her anymore, and he was able to think clearly for once.

He had left her unconscious, but she should have woken up quite some time ago. What could she possibly be doing now? He remembered the destroyed tent. It had been her tent he had ripped apart. He had no idea how badly torn he had left it, but the sudden thought that the kid might think of using his tent to sleep through the night got him growling before he even noticed it. Having finished the best parts of the carcass, Creed left the rest for any scavengers around and started back to the camp site.

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Irbis was laying down close to a tree. She was securely wrapped on her sleeping bag and the remnants of the tent had been used to build an improvised shelter over her. It wasn't much of a shelter, though. The poles formed a fragile center for the tent's ripped fabric, which stretched from the pole to the ground in a tepee like shape on the one side, and which stretched to hug a tree trunk on the opposite side. It wasn't much effective, and downright ugly, but at least she hadn't used his tent. Creed smiled almost appraisingly at the kid's effort not to use his tent, but the smile twisted itself into mischievousness.

So the kid wasn't afraid of him, was she? And threats had no effect on her, had they? Well, maybe she'd think twice at having to take care of herself all on her own!

Creed sat down and got ready to spend the night. It was very late. He didn't have his watch on, but since the nearly full moon had already gone through two thirds of its nightly course, it was safe to assume it was about two or three in the morning. Listening carefully, he ascertained that Irbis was sleeping. He leaned his head on the tree and doze off, ready to snap at the slightest movement from the camp site.

Creed was a lucky man, and he knew it. There are very few people who can brag of having a career doing what they like the most, but he was one of them. Sure, he still had to put up with his bosses' demands, quirks and general stupidity; but he considered it a lesser evil. Creed lived for the hunt. Every and any instinct on him was hardwired for it. He had been born to hunt!

He opened his eyes on the exact moment Irbis started moving. He stood perfectly still behind the tree and the luxurious bushes which marked his hiding place. Hunting people in general was more of a challenge for him, especially those predators just below him in the food chain. But hunting out in the woods wasn't as much a challenge as a way of relaxing: he was the undisputed king of the forest, and not even people with good survival skills could make him break a sweat.

Therefore, as Creed started spying on Irbis and stalking her movements, he was simply having a light fun.

Irbis crawled out of the so-called shelter and peeled off the sleeping bag. Creed watched her look around in her typical helpless fashion. He'd let her starve for a few days, he decided; she should be eager to obey his every wish after that for sure.

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Irbis was standing in the middle of the camp site and feeling rather lost. Creed hadn't come back and she wasn't sure whether she should be happy about it or not. The thought crossed her mind that he might not come back. He might just leave her there. Abandon her. He sure had been mad enough to do much worse, when he had beaten her unconscious.

What to do?

She looked around at the ruined campsite as she tried to get her thoughts straightened up and decide on the best course of action. She already had a good idea of what few actions she could possibly take, but she needed to think them over very carefully, as her whole life would depend on it. So she tried to weight the alternatives and predict her future. But her past intentions kept meddling in… She had wanted so much to strike a good professional relationship with the man. She had wanted to win his respect, if nothing else. She had wanted… Yet, she had failed completely! As that idea slowly pervaded her mind, she felt devastated.

Irbis sat down slowly, feeling as stupid and ridiculous and incompetent as she knew she truly was. And now Creed knew it, too. Plus, he thought her a coward. So, O.K., she was a coward. But he thought she was a coward because she didn't want to hurt him and that was not true at all. She was a coward for a great number of reasons, but not wanting to hurt the only person that had lent her a helping hand – for whatever selfish reasons it might have been – was not cowardice. A little voice inside her head reminded her he had beaten her… that could diminish the goodness of his previous actions enough for her to do his bidding on this particular case. But it didn't matter. She had decided she wouldn't do it and there was nothing anyone could say or do that would change her mind.

She remained on the ground for some time, silently looking ahead of her and seeing nothing. As if a cold gust of wind had slowly crept towards her, Irbis felt her feelings start to change again and it frightened her. She didn't know why that change happened, but it had started after she had been taken to that secret laboratory. Every feeling in her heart faded and melted away, leaving her empty and numb. Just like it had happened during the run from the secret laboratory, or when she was at Creed's house, or when Creed was torturing the Portland woman, or when he had become mad at her for being a book-worm blind moron, or when he had beat her because she wouldn't hurt him. She felt so empty it was almost as if she was going to break and crumble inwards, to fill in that threatening void. Fear was the only feeling that could still have a hold on her, if she thought seriously about what was happening. But it was such a diminutive thing next to that infinitive cold void, that it could only fear the void and nothing else at all. And even then, the coldness almost enveloped that trembling fearful feeling and absorbed it away.

Nevertheless, her mind could still work. And it worked with a detached coldness that both amazed and scared her, when she thought about it. She tried to understand the process a bit better, to get familiarized with it. After all, if it was going to take over every time she was in a dangerous prediction, she might as well get used to it and learn to take advantage of it, right? It was almost as if she had walked away from a stage and sat down to see somebody else take her body and keep on in her stead, she decided. It was liberating, in a sense… it wouldn't even be so bad if she could get rid of that fear that still clung to her, like a half-faded shadow, when she focused on what was going on. And yet something kept her from trying to will it away. It might be important to be afraid of the void, however small and frail the feeling might be. Maybe the sense of liberation was simply an illusion. Who could tell?

In the mean while, her cold, numb self had already taken over and started going through all the possibilities Irbis had. As she paid attention to her new self on stage, the sense of fear was silently overcome by the void.

The first option was to kill herself. Creed wanted her to do his bidding like a trained dog and that was definitely not an option. So he would beat her up, probably torture her for a while, and then he'd finally kill her. It was best to take the short cut out. More efficient and certainly less painful.

But Irbis's real self didn't want to die. The peacefulness of the forest all around her forbid it. The memory of some good moments after she had accepted to work for Creed… good moments spent with and even provided by the man itself. They were particularly fuzzy, and the cold void kept her from fully reenacting them, but they were there, warm and dangerous. A strange promise of pleasure and pain which, at the moment, was as comfortable as it was uncomfortable. But it was something that fought against that threatening emptiness inside her and which shone with the brightness of life itself – true life.

Still, once more, she wasn't willing to be Creed's trained watchdog. She had her dignity, if nothing else. And the void stuck to that, decidedly and stubbornly. So her other option was to leave. Certainly Creed would come after her; she could still kill herself before he could do any harm, though. Her cold self warned her that it was best to end the whole thing as soon as possible, that he would have his way with her before she could think of a single gesture to stop him, but Irbis didn't want to quench the little star, her life, which even though faint was shining once more. 'Thanks to him', she thought weakly; 'In spite of him', her void self urged.

So she must leave. She would have to give Creed notice of it first. However, he had abandoned her. He had had time to return and hadn't, so she wasn't required to deliver it in person. Her mind sent the order to her body to get up and fetch Irbis's notebook, so a note could be left in the man's tent. Irbis's body was stiff, though, and took awhile to acknowledge the order. When it did move, the void absorbed all the pain her limbs felt and Irbis only faintly realized she was walking rather stiffly, a bit like a robot, she even mused from her little stool, next to her mind's stage.

The note was written. It was a bit awkward, and Irbis's mind once more tried to take over so she could write it better, but her other self wouldn't allow any changes to be made. Then, a more pressing matter took precedence. There was need for things to be taken. A map, a compass, food. A sleeping bag, too, for protection against the cold nights. And documents, naturally, for when she reached other people. Plus money. She would not go back to Wausau and to Creed's hands, it was decided. If she was leaving, all connections to the man simply had to be severed. The X-Men. He had offered their protection himself, event though they were enemies (which had been weird, but the man was a bit weird of sorts, anyway). Irbis wasn't sure about that. She didn't think the X-Men would accept her as promptly as Creed had suggested, and she certainly didn't think they were a safe place to hide. But Irbis wasn't in charge, right now; her cold, numb self was, and it was taking neither suggestions nor opinions.

She would go east towards the Superior Lake until she found a town; then, she'd get into a public transport – bus or train seemed like the best choices – and go to New York. Then it would be a simple matter of taking a taxi to the X-Men School.

It was decided. It was final.

Irbis's body went through each clear instruction and got the backpack ready. Then it put it on its back and started moving.

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Creed watched the girl as she put her things back in her bag. After that she checked a few traps Creed had taught her to set a couple of days before. It was a smart idea, but unfortunately for her, whatever animals had been caught in the traps had already been eaten by scavengers. Instead, she just put her knife in a holster at her waist, on the right side, and tucked her gun in the trousers waistband, on the left side. Creed grinned. So she was guessing trouble, and she was getting ready for it.

He watched her go away, which didn't take long, before heading for his tent where he had seen her leave a note pad. He had thought it strange and could hardly wait to see what it was all about.

"_Mr. Creed._

_You want me to be your dog, trained to obey your every word. I will not do it. So I know you'll just keep on beating until I obey. But I won't. So you will torture me and kill me. So I'm leaving, before you do all that. Besides, our contract says that I can leave if you break it by beating me, and you have. You beated me twice in one day. So I am free to leave. _

_You had enough time for you to come back so I could give you the notice personally. It's not my fault you didn't. So you have your notice in writing, instead._"

Creed read the note twice. It was unbelievable! If he didn't know she was a stupid shy coward, he'd say she had guts. Ripping the piece of paper off the pad and crumbling it into one of his pockets, Creed started after Irbis.

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Irbis held the compass on her hand all the time. She had long given up on the map; even though Creed had taught her how to use both map and compass to find her way, map reading just wasn't her strong point. At least it wasn't when there weren't any streets with their names clearly marked so she could tell her position on the darned piece of paper. But she needn't know exactly where she was right now. All she needed to know was where the East stood, and the compass told her just that. When she finally reached the Lake Superior she would simply follow its margin South and that would be it. No need for maps at all!

By three o'clock, she had already finished eating all the cookies she carried in her backpack and was still hungry. Was Creed following her already? Common sense told her that the hunter would stalk her and attack before she could do anything to defend herself. But she didn't know enough to as much as pretend she could get away from him in any way. And, more importantly, she was hungry. Irbis decided the best way to find a meal would be in a brook or a lake, since she didn't want to waste ammo, shooting an animal, and she wasn't confident in her abilities to build a trap from scratch. So she kept going, hoping to find a place where she could fish before nightfall, because otherwise she wouldn't have any food.

She wasn't lucky. When the light started growing weaker, Irbis stopped and retraced her footsteps for a few minutes, back to a large bush with berries. After eating the berries, she wrapped herself in her sleeping bag. It wasn't comfortable, but she didn't want to spend her energy building a one night shelter.

The next morning, she got up and started moving, again. She was still tired and hungry, but her determination hadn't abated a quarter of an inch. Irbis glanced around trying to guess how many miles she had walked and how many more were still to go. More importantly yet: how many days would she have to walk before reaching people? And would Creed allow her to reach people? Creed. Or Jekyll. Sabretooth. She ought to worry a bit more about the man and whatever he was going to do to her, but her stomach kept distracting her from him. And she was glad it was so, because with every hour spent without any signs of his presence, the fear that he might really let her go and not come after her became stronger and stronger. What would she do if he really didn't come after her? Go to those X-Men? Would that be safe? Would they accept her?

A far away sound was heard through the woods and Irbis stopped, suddenly afraid of meeting other people. Glancing around, she hoped Creed would show up and… and do whatever. If only he would show up before she had to deal with other people.

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Creed had been following Irbis for three days, now. He was surprised she was holding out so well, even if she was basing her meals on berries and fish, whenever she came across brooks and lakes. But even though she was slowly starving herself, she kept a good rhythm. If she kept it up, she might even reach civilization in five or six days. The problem was he hadn't wanted her to hold out; he wanted her scared and begging for help. But in spite of himself, he had to respect her strength and stubbornness which were keeping her from giving up.

He wasn't sure about what to do with the kid yet. He was considering letting her go on her own and see how far she could go. Maybe let her think he'd leave her alone instead of coming after her; allow her sometime to have fun and enjoy her independence so she could give a good fight when he finally snagged her. But he hadn't truly decided anything yet.

He moved ahead of her and set himself in a position to watch her go by without her seeing him. She was walking carefully but in a decided pace, glancing at the sides and ahead of her instead of always looking down at the ground as she usually did in Wausau. It was as if she had transformed into someone else; someone confident in her abilities.

Then, suddenly, the wind changed and Creed sniffed the scent of people. He analyzed the weak scent carried by the wind and decided it ought to be a very small group having roast meat for lunch by a water way. Irbis was going east, so she should meet the group in a couple of hours if not less. The man crouched lower and grumbled. Now he had to make up his mind swiftly. Although… he could kill the group, too. After all, she didn't mind being killed but she might get afflicted at the idea of seeing innocent by-standers getting killed because of her. Yup, that was it. Pleased with himself, he relaxed and fell back to stalking the hungry woman.

He didn't have to follow her for long, though. Soon enough, Irbis noticed she had company and froze. Creed could hear her breathing heavily, the air suddenly thick with her fear. He almost growled. She wasn't afraid of HIM no matter how often he threatened her or beat her up, but she was willingly afraid of some people she hadn't even seen yet. A couple of feet behind her, the blond half-wished those campers actually were a bunch of ruffians worthy of Irbis's such intense fear. But he immediately changed his mind. He didn't want someone else to give Irbis a bit of Hell. That was what he was going to do. What he needed was a nice family or friendly group he could chop to pieces while Irbis watched him, horrified and trembling in fear.

He swiftly overcame the statue Irbis had suddenly transformed into and moved ahead to spy on these campers. The vision he got had him grumbling: three tough looking guys were finishing their lunch on a rocky lake margin. He had already noticed there weren't any women in the group, but he had at least hoped for young people or a father and his kids. There were three canoes safely anchored to a tree trunk, and he could smell a faint scent of powder, as well as freshly oiled guns, probably hunting rifles. One of the men, his head shaven clean, was adjusting something under the cover of the smallest canoe of the group. Another one, with very short dark hair, was cleaning up the cooking ware from the meal and the third one, a light skinned Hispanic also sporting short hair, was extinguishing the fire.

The trio definitely didn't look like it would be very friendly towards a lonely woman in the deep woods. Or better yet, the men looked like they could be a bit too friendly. However, if Irbis's reaction to the sound of people and cooking ware was any indication, she'd probably put her tail between her legs and move on without attracting their attention.

He carefully retraced his footsteps back to the now retreating Irbis, and felt pleased with her cowardice. Although, truth be told, he half admitted this time it might be more sensible caution than cowardice. And he was glad she was leaving quietly, avoiding contact with the men. She didn't as much as looked at her compass, though, and simply moved on. Creed shook his head. Fear had certainly erased any type of thought from the girl's head, otherwise she wouldn't have been going northwest instead of south or southeast. She'd have that much to walk, later on, when she would have to correct her direction.

Of course, that wasn't his problem, was it?

Soon enough, Creed decided he was hungry and went off Irbis's path as much as possible so he could catch some small animal for his own lunch without getting her attention. He wasn't picky because he didn't want to be too long away from the kid; especially not now, that there were people around. He captured a heron and pretty much ignored its fibrous meat. He had been having such light raw meals ever since he had started stalking Irbis, but it didn't bother him at all. It was all part of the hunt.

When Creed was just reaching Irbis's trail again, he heard a muffled cry. Irbis's muffled cry. A curse instantly in his mouth, he quickly found Irbis at the feet of the men, her knife and gun in the Hispanic's hands.

"…ain't gonna give shit 'bout her, man." The shaven head guy was saying. "I say we just do our thing an' leave her here for whoever!"

Creed cursed some more, in silence. This was precisely what he didn't want to happen. Why couldn't things go the way he wanted them for at least once! Now he was going to have to save Irbis… Again! It was like he didn't do anything else besides saving her sorry ass ever since she had come along.

"Don't be stupid, Gus! Just try an' think fer once, will ya?" The Hispanic guy ignored the shaven head guy's insulting retort while their partner squatted down to pet Irbis's face. "Didn't she say she ain't alone? Don't ya think the guy who did that ta her is probably comin' hot on her trail, if she's tryin' ta ditch 'im?"

"Tony's right on, Gus." The short dark haired guy got up, leaving Irbis frozen on the ground. "Whatever happens, it's best we're somewhere whoever she's with ain't gonna show up an' complain."

"Ya don't know how far the guy is." The Hispanic insisted again. "We take her with us. We can get rid of her later on an' leave her disappearance on her lover's head. I mean, if people know he hits her like this, they won't have any second thoughts 'bout cagin' 'im fer murder or somethin' an' we'll be home free."

Without waiting for more arguments from Gus the Shaven Head, Tony the Hispanic grabbed Irbis's by the arm and pulled her up almost gently, without much resistance from her. Creed wished he had dragged the kid by the hair instead; it was the least she deserved. He moved from the men's path unwillingly and stealthily followed them. He could tell Irbis was afraid, but not as afraid as she had been when she had frozen still, after hearing the trio finishing lunch. Creed moodily wondered if the girl had some weird mutation that kept her from being afraid in seriously dangerous situations. That was pretty much the only thing that could explain why she wasn't afraid of him and why she was less scared now, that she was in very deep trouble, than she had been just half an hour before.

Fifteen minutes later they were back at the lake's margin. Creed knew he would have to save the ungrateful brat sooner or later, but he was determined to wait to the very last moment. He guessed they were going to take their canoes and cross the wide lake to the other side. That would surely keep anyone from following. Unfortunately for them, Creed wasn't just anyone, and he wouldn't have any trouble swimming after them the entire length of whatever course they intended to take.

As she was led to a rock on the margin so she could sit down, Irbis was actually very calm. A bit more and she wouldn't be afraid at all, Creed exaggerated, irritated with the kid's crazy behaviour. However that changed soon enough. It only took a glance at the canoes, which the men pulled away from the tree and got ready to navigate. The hidden hunter was utterly puzzled when Irbis once more became utterly frightened. It had started the moment she had seen the canoes. He wondered if she hadn't been afraid because she thought he'd show up to save her and was getting scared now thinking he wouldn't be able to follow her track. But she couldn't possibly believe he would have saved her, could she? After all, she knew he was following her so he could kill her painfully, right? Besides, what were those guys going to do? Rape her and then abandon her or just shoot her dead, in the worst case scenario. He was going to do so much worse! Surely she would prefer dieing at those guys' hands rather than at his… any woman with a bit of sense in her head would have!

The canoes were ready. Tony the Hispanic grabbed Irbis by the arm once more and politely invited her to enter a canoe which the short dark haired guy was holding still. She moved stiffly towards the canoe, her breathing ragged with fear. From his spot, Creed could smell her fear intensifying with each step until she froze. She had one foot in the water. Tony pushed her a bit more roughly and she moved as fast as she could. She tried to turn around while reaching for the gun in Tony's waistband, but unfortunately for her, she wasn't quite as fast as she had needed to be and the guy easily cut her down. Nevertheless, she had reached the gun. But instead of taking it from her captor's possession, she simply found the trigger and pulled it.

Creed had a nice view of the men's family jewels' exploding in a reddish shower. He grinned at the girl's aim, although he was sure she hadn't meant to do just that. She hadn't taken the time to enjoy her handiwork, though, as she swiftly got back on her feet and sprinted away towards the tree cover. Both men had started to their fallen companion's side, but Gus stopped when he saw Irbis sprinting at her full speed. He yelled and pulled his own gun from a holster under his coat. Creed cursed. He was not in a good position to either intercept the bullet or tackle Irbis out of harm's way.

As the man pulled the trigger, Creed had already picked a stone and thrown it at Irbis's legs. It hit its target and Irbis fell to the ground with a yelp, but not before the bullet scrapped through her right forearm. She stayed down as Gus started after her with an enraged scream. But Creed had had enough of this drama. He left his hiding place and quickly intercepted the man that had stopped and trained his gun on him. Creed dodged the bullet and slashed Gus's throat, then swiftly ran to the last man standing… that is to say, the man trying to push his canoe to the deep water's safety. He had just jumped into the canoe and grabbed the oar when Creed jumped in with him, turning the canoe around as the man's neck broke under Creed's hand.

Tony the Hispanic had stopped screaming when Creed got off the water and just looked at the giant blond with an unforgettable expression of terror and incredulity. Creed looked at the man, down on the wet stony margin, his hands cupped around his preciously gone dick, and snorted. They all looked at him with the same exact expression. It was so typical it disgusted him. Just so he'd get rid of the man's horrified eyes, he stooped down and ripped his face away, while being careful to break the man's neck all in one easy movement.

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Thank you for reading and reviewing.


	9. Show Down

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Irbis and several short-lived bystanders; everything else is Marvel's only.

**Chapter 9**

**Show Down**

Irbis couldn't feel anything. Not her stinging bleeding forearm, not her swelling knee, not her scrapped arms from the fall on the rocky ground. She couldn't even feel the harshness of that same rocky ground. The only thing she could feel was her heart beating so fast and so hard it almost hurt. No, that wasn't true. There was something else she could feel. She could feel relief. An incredible and maddeningly stupid relief that left her ashamed of herself.

She watched him as he stooped down and finished off the man on the ground. She watched him as he looked at her and ran her soul through with his gaze. Sitting on the ground, she tried to look away but couldn't take her eyes off him. So she watched him as he casually came up to her and stopped within inches of her feet. His cold amber eyes felt like ice, burning through her.

Creed squatted down in front of Irbis and didn't say anything for a moment, just gazing into her eyes, keeping her as mesmerized as a mouse in front of a rattlesnake.

"So." Irbis's eyes were moving around, trying to take in his entire face and dancing from his emotionless gaze to his seriously straight lips. "Had fun, did ya?"

Irbis was surprised she could hear the man, because her heart was beating right inside her ears. She was having trouble breathing and kept gasping, but that wasn't the reason why she couldn't answer the blond: firstly, she had presently forgotten how to use her voice; secondly, she was still struggling to make sense out of his words.

A moment later, which felt like an eternity where Creed's voice (not the words, as she still hadn't been able to understand their meaning) kept echoing, Creed grinned. Irbis's eyes focused completely on the way his lips curled slightly to the left, only just baring the tip of his right fang; his left fang clearly more visible in between his thin pale lips. But then there was a change. The lips curled up, baring both his fangs in a rather sensual fashion. A moment later, the idea that she had just thought those white sharpened teeth sensual hit her like a bucket of icy water. All of a sudden, she realized the blond's expression ought to have been seen from the beginning as threatening. Threatening, not...

Creed's hand made connection with Irbis's cheek in the precise moment Creed roared in frustration. He watched the woman fall to the side with a shriek. How could she still not be afraid of him?

"Isso dói! It hurts!" Irbis looked at the man with tears in her eyes, apparently oblivious to his mad expression.

"That's the whole idea, ya lil'bitch!" He once roared as he kicked her good leg.

"Stop it!" But instead of cowering away from the imposing figure standing in front of her, Irbis lent forward, confusion and hurt showing in her eyes.

Creed wouldn't have that. In a moment he had grabbed her by the neck and almost lifted her off the ground.

"Ya don't tell ME what ta do! And I'll do whatever I very well feel like, is that clear?"

But Irbis was stubborn. Even struggling against her hurting knee and forearm, even holding back tears, she still managed to talk back:

"Don't call me bitch!"

"I'LL CALL YA WHATEVER I WANTS!" Creed was now panting with the effort not to break the brat's neck right there and then. Why wasn't she afraid?! What was wrong with the blasted bitch?

Irbis unconsciously held on to the blond's muscled arm which was tightening its grip around her neck. It was getting harder to breathe and that overcame even the pain. But by then, it had all become unreal again. She had once more left the stage of her mind and sat on her little stool watching somebody else taking over. It was just like a dream. Her body moved of its own accord while she still used her body's eyes to watch what was going on. Once more, all her feelings melted away, and not even fear lingered behind, as she wasn't paying the usually threatening void any attention. There was only that unstoppable grip hurting her neck and the blond's beautiful amber eyes glaring straight into hers. She panted as she tried to lose the adjective 'beautiful' from her mind. The man was a murderer who enjoyed torturing! The Portland woman flashed through her mind. She was to be next. But his eyes – they weren't icy cold this time, but flashing with light and rage – his eyes were all she could see. The way the dark iris was under siege by yellow and golden circles… the way the most diminutive stripes of light and darkness cut through those circles of colour… the way the white part of the eye became bloodshot…

He said something but she couldn't quite grasp what he had said. It was as if all had faded away and all that was left was her pain and his eyes. Like a dream, indeed. Until it transformed into a nightmare when she was thrown at the rocky ground. Irbis whimpered and couldn't help a tear from trickling down her face. But before she could actually react, she felt her left arm being grabbed and she found herself painfully back on her feet. She wasn't steady, though, so another hand caught her right arm. Irbis couldn't help screaming, then, as her wound was crushed under the man's strong hands. Then she was shaken, back and forth, and her arm was hurting so!

"Ain't ya listening, ya darned bitch? What's wrong with ya, huh? What's wrong with ya?"

"Estás-me a aleijar!" She heard herself shriek. "Pára! Pára!" Over and over again she heard her own voice echoing inside her head.

And then she was back on the ground.

Creed watched the woman whimpering, tears flowing down her dirty cheeks. He waited until she opened her eyes to him, then he squatted in front of her. There wasn't fear in her eyes, nor in her scent. There wasn't resistance or challenge, either. There wasn't defeat. There wasn't even stubbornness, and there certainly wasn't any begging. Just pain. And a blank expectancy as if she was very simply waiting for him to do whatever he wanted and didn't have any preferences.

He waited a few minutes, panting away his rage. Then he growled menacingly and slid out his claws, giving a step towards the girl sprawled on the ground. She blinked a couple of times. Creed growled and closed his fists hard. He was hurting her! He was going to kill her very, very painfully! And she knew it! Why wasn't she afraid? For once! For at least…

"What. Is. WRONG. With ya? What the f--- is wrong with ya that ya ain't afraid o' me? WHAT?"

Irbis shuddered at the man's roared yell and her eyes opened wide in absolute confusion. She blinked and stared at him as unafraid as if she had been looking at a harmless statue. He bared his fangs and claws and moved at her, but she simply started and once more blinked and generally kept that same confused and expectant gaze on him. Roaring, Creed changed his attack and simply scratched her cheek. She didn't as much as move, this time, and simply remained there gazing up at him with her wide blank eyes. Like a statue. Blood absent-mindedly flowing down to her neck. As unafraid as a statue could ever be.

Then her lips moved.

"i'm stupid…"

"Huh?"

"i'm stupid. dat's why i'm not afraid of you. because i'm stupid." Her voice was so soft, it sounded as if she was talking from far away. "i'm a coward… i'm afraid of everything around me… but… i'm just too stupid to be afraid of you."

"Ya ain't stupid." Creed stated simply.

"you don't know" She whispered as a tear rolled down and joined the blood trickling from her face wounds.

"Ya was afraid o' me before." Her eerie soft whisper calmed him down somehow, even if he couldn't understand what she was babbling about. "When I was teachin' ya ta fight, and ta throw knives. Ya was afraid then."

"tão estúpida" She continued, glancing down at the ground and closing her eyes.

"Hey! Ya listenin'?" He grabbed her shoulders and shook her back and forth a couple of times, ignoring her shrieks, until her eyes were a bit more lively. "I said ya was afraid o' me before. When I taught ya ta fight; when we was on that beach, in Cape Cod; at that blasted weddin… Why? Why were ya 'fraid o' me then and ya ain't now?"

"I wasn't…" She answered breathlessly, still not yet recovered from the shaking she had just suffered.

"Like hell ya wasn't! Ya…"

"I wasn't!" She yelled back with unexpected vitality, surprising Creed. "Just because you can smell when I'm afraid, you can't smell WHY I'm afraid? Can you?!"

Creed didn't answer. That had never occurred to him before. If someone near him was afraid, it was always without fault because of him. He remembered the wedding. How she had clung to him, as if longing for protection.

"Why were ya 'fraid at the weddin'?"

She shook her head while admitting she didn't remember.

"When ya was dancin' with me, ya moron! Ta that stupid song… Waltzing Matilda." The memory breathed hotly on his chest again. "Don't ya remember that?"

She glanced around, as if she were trying to find a way to explain she had no idea what he was talking about, and Creed felt his blood starting to boil once more.

"I'm stupid." She finally blurted, half shrugging.

"Like hell ya are! Ya may be too stupid ta be afraid o' me when I gets in my mind ta beat ya up or ta kill ya, but ya were scared before and ya are gonna tell me just WHAT ya were afraid of!"

She bit her lower lip and looked away from him. He was that close to just kill her, but he had to know what had frightened her. Maybe then he would believe she really wasn't afraid of him, since he was still having trouble accepting it.

"I was afraid… I was afraid because I wasn't afraid! When you killed dose people… when you tortured de woman… I wasn't afraid of it. I wasn't afraid of you. But I should have been. And I should be afraid of you. And I'm not! I'm not."

She shrugged, helplessly at her own idiocy, and simply repeated the last sentence a few more times while shaking her head.

"Ya're right." Creed said, annoyed but not feeling the need to kick her butt anymore. He finally had his answer and it didn't explain anything. "It's stupid."

Irbis saw Creed walk away and disappear amidst the trees. She couldn't feel anything right there and then. She could neither feel, or think, or talk… Even her aching body had fallen back to background. She couldn't have been more lost. She couldn't even feel the void inside her. It was all gone.

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Darkness overcame the day swiftly and quietly. To Irbis, though, it came unexpectedly. In one moment she had been staring at the blue sky above her, in the next she was staring at a pitch black slightly starred sky. She blinked, curious. Night fell so quickly, her tired brain noted. Then her brain noticed how the body it served was cold and stiff, and very, very sore. It sent an order for the muscles to tense up so it could analyse the extent of the damage done. The muscles failed to obey, at first; but little by little they tensed, sending up an enormous quantity of pain lightnings which nearly overcame the brain's coherence and which caused spontaneous moaning and whimpering from the body's throat.

Consciousness slowly pervaded the brain and obscured its everyday procedures. Irbis blinked and wondered how long she had been laying there. She knew she had to get up. Everything in her hurt. Even if she tried not to breathe, it still hurt. But she had to overcome it. She had to get up and… She had to…

While battling her own body, which wanted nothing but to remain as quiet as possible, Irbis moved her head to the side and glanced at Creed, gazing back at her from behind a nice warm fire. A fire where something was roasting and releasing a painfully delicious perfume. She was so hungry! She closed her eyes. She was cold, hungry and hurting like hell. Sure, there wasn't much she could do about the pain (unless make it worse, that is), but she could do something about the rest. If the man didn't decide to use her as a punching bag instead.

With a mind and body-numbing effort, Irbis rolled herself to the side and forced herself up. The man didn't as much as flinch, much less come to her aid. But she didn't want his help, anyway. She didn't need his help for anything, she reminded herself. And with that clearly in mind she got up and gingerly wobbled towards the fire. She almost sat on the first agreeable spot, which was on the other side of the fire from the man, but then she changed her mind. With a show of strength and defiance, Irbis sat right next to the blond. There was a half eaten animal near the fire and her stomach growled with the sound of thunder.

"So… what happens now?"

Creed didn't bother to look at her and answered lazily.

"I wait till I get sleepy then I get some sleep. Why?"

"You are not going to kill me?"

"Not just yet."

"When are you going to kill me, den?"

"What's yer hurry?"

Irbis bit her lower lip and held her breath for a moment. She was in no hurry to die, but if he was going to keep beating her up, then the sooner she did die the better off she'd be. She was too tired and hurt to even worry about life, but not too tired to accept her unimportance to the man. The way he carelessly ignored her while tearing another piece from the roasted animal fired her up and she got up, wincing at the pain it caused her but keeping any whimper silent.

The man cocked an eyebrow up as he watched her wobble to the lake's margin and search for something in the darkness. A few moaned Portuguese curses later, she wobbled back to the fire and stood facing him from the other side of the fire. Creed was careful to bestow his entire attention on the piece of meat he was lazily nibbling.

"Where is it?"

He still didn't look at her, and took his time before answering with mocked boredom.

"Where's what? Ya been lookin' fer somethin'?"

"My pistol. De man took it and he's not dere anymore. If you took the bodies away, you must have taken my pistol from dem, too. Where is it?"

Creed finally looked at her over the low fire, but didn't say anything. Irbis felt her rage firing up higher.

"I'm not going to be waiting for you to finally decide you're going to kill me! And I'm not going to let you use me as a punching bag, eider!" Creed narrowed his eyes but all Irbis could see was his stone-etched features. "You eider give me my pistol or you kill me. Tonight. Now. I'm tired of putting up wid dis… dis…"

Creed was growling audibly, but Irbis was too upset. She was hurting all over, outside and inside, and she was ending it all right there and then. One way or the other. She bit her lip once more while quickly planning her next move. If she couldn't get him to not hit her, she'd get him to kill her. With a repressed moan she stooped down and grabbed a stone. It was hot and she hissed, throwing it at the blond without as much as aiming.

"What the f--- ya think ya doin', bitch?" The growl was menacing but not predicting an attack just yet.

He didn't have to move because the stone never got close to him, but the fact she had wanted it to hit him was changing the whole situation around. On the other hand, Irbis had once more stooped and grabbed a handful of stones, which weren't hot, this time.

"I'm trying to hit you wid a stone, what does it look like?"

And she threw another one, which Creed grabbed without effort even as he got up. She pouted in frustration and threw at him all the stones she had in her left hand. However, only a couple hit their target, and probably because he got in their way while lounging for the woman. But Irbis had stepped back away from the fire.

"Ya gonna stop right now, ya lil' bitch, I ain't in no mood fer this crap." Creed was standing near the fire, just a couple of feet from Irbis who was still walking backwards.

"I'm not stopping! I'm not stopping anything! Stupid! You big stupid ass-hole! You… you… C-----! F---- da p---! C------ de…"

She only stopped when Creed slapped her hard enough to make her fall, although not knocking her out.

"Whatchya tryin' ta do, ya moron? Ain't hurt enough yet?"

Roaring with rage and frustration, Irbis kicked the man's shins. Creed kicked her legs to the side and reached for her neck, pinning her down.

"Ya gonna stop it. Right. Now!"

And she did. Breathing hard, Irbis stopped squirming. But the moment he eased his grip and started getting up, she kicked him as hard as she could on the groin. With her eyes closed, Irbis only heard the man's roar and then felt his claws around her neck. She even stopped breathing, expecting to feel it being snapped.

"So that's what ya want, is it? Ya figure ya can get me mad enough ta kill ya, is that it?"

Irbis opened her eyes. His face was so close to hers she could see it perfectly in spite of the darkness.

"It's not dat hard. I just have to make you so mad you lose control and can't stop yourself in time, like you did just now." Her heart missed a beat when his lips parted and his fangs were bared. "I'll nag you so often, so bad, you'll beat me to death!"

"Think again." He roared, as he gazed into her burning eyes.

"You can have enough control not to do it just now. But you will kill me. I'll make you kill me today." Determination made her eyes brighter. "And you know why? Hun? Because you can't control yourself! You're a moron who can't control yourself and has to go out hitting everything and everyone because you just feel like it. Even a child has more self-control! A baby has more control! You're going to rape me, hun? Torture me? Take out pieces of me, are you? Hun? I'll make you do it all to me! I'll make you. I'll make you beat me, rape me, chop off pieces of meat… I'll make you do it all. I'll make you hurt me in every way you can until you kill me."

Irbis stopped talking when Creed's hand squeezed her neck harder, making breathing difficult. She closed her eyes briefly, sending off a few tears, but opened them again and gazed into his with proud stubbornness. Defying him. For a moment, Creed's brain couldn't form any coherent plan on how to hurt her the most. Everything that came to his mind – hurt her till she begged for her life, and then some more till he finally killed her – everything played right into her plan. And he knew, it only took looking at her eyes, he knew she'd take every pain and hurt as a victory. Her victory over him.

"Oh, yeah? Think again."

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Thank you for reading and reviewing.


	10. From Scratch

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Irbis and several short-lived bystanders; everything else is Marvel's only.

**Chapter 10**

**From Scratch**

"I have no intention o' hurtin' or killin' ya."

Irbis laughed her incredulity into the night air.

"Mas o homem julga que eu sou estúpida!"

"No, I don't think ya're stupid." If he did, he'd have expected her to believe him. "Even if you are a moron."

And having said that, he returned to his spot near the fire, leaving Irbis sitting on the rocky ground. Frustrated, she took a while before getting up and returning to the fire herself. Once more, she stopped in front of him, the fire keeping them apart. Before she could say anything, though, Creed quickly played his hand.

"If ya're dead or hurt, ya won't do yer job right, cleanin' my house. So stop being all melodramatic and suicidal an'sit down." He roughly threw the animal leftovers at her. "Eat first. Then ya can take care o' yer wounds."

Irbis's chin trembled with anger and frustration.

"I'm not your dog, dat you can order around!" Tears started rolling down her cheeks, which pleased Creed. "You think you can beat me every time you get mad because I don't obey? Well, you can't. And I'm not going back to your house! I'm not working for you anymore. I demand respect! You know what dat is? Do you? It's what you don't give anyone, but demand to receive from everyone."

She choked for a moment, the strength of her emotions threatening to overcome her, now that the adrenaline had diminished. And Creed was determined not to do or say anything that could be seen as dangerous so as not to rise her adrenaline levels again.

"I'm not working for you. I'm not going back wid you." And she shook her head.

"Fine. Whatever. Now try and give it a rest. The food's still there and ya still gotta take care o' yer wounds." He got up and looked down at the teary eyed woman, still holding onto her ground. "Or not. Either way, have fun. I'm through with yer nonsense fer now."

Without another word, he turned his back on her and disappeared into the darkened trees. Irbis's tears rolled thicker and hotter.

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Over an hour later, Irbis was laying on the ground, unmoving, next to the fire. From the darkness, Creed could see she hadn't eaten anything and, if he focused hard enough, he could even smell a faint scent of tears. He grinned. He had quenched her fury effectively. While playing her game! Just like he had wanted to. He felt the rush of victory overcome him.

Creed got up and stretched. It was a different kind of hunt, this manipulating his prey's mind, and he didn't often go for it. Well, if you didn't count terrorizing his vics into doing whatever he wanted them to. But not using violence, just words… that only happened if he wanted to distract his opponent into giving him an opening for an attack. But either way, he only used manipulation to get his vics deeper into his game. But this! Willingly playing the kid's game and winning… this was completely different. And it wasn't even like when he had been trapped in the X-moron's mansion, making belief his mind was still that of an innocent cub, because he had only been buying time, playing their game, before he could turn the tables on them.

No, this was so much more different. This was so much more exhilarating. He was twisting the kid's mind into anything he wanted. And he'd be doing it until she was a rag doll in his hands, no will whatsoever. Playing by her rules.

Something in his mind warned him she wouldn't be that easy to play. And no, she wouldn't. She knew he had a short fuse. He was well aware of it. But he could control himself, he insisted. He might have a short fuse, but he was in control. He might kill her without meaning to, if he lost his temper and went berserk, but he had enough control to not go into a rage. She could do whatever she wanted to provoke him… he would be the only one doing the manipulating, in this game, not the other way around. And even though she might prove a difficult challenge, he'd still win. Because he was the one in control. He, and no one else. And right now, he had some more mind games to throw at her. Her stubbornness was still begging to be crushed.

He quietly left the tree cover and approached her defeated form. The fire lighted the drying trail of tears on one side of her face, her eyes closed. Creed carelessly kicked some pebbles, so that his approaching steps would be noticed by her. As he expected, she opened her eyes to look at him.

"Ya haven't eaten." She didn't budge. "So, what's yer plan now? Starve yerself ta death? Ya're such a stupid moron, girl."

Her nostrils flared almost imperceptibly in the darkness. Creed shrugged as if he couldn't care less and moved to the other side of the fire, where he arranged a couple of sleeping mats under him as a protection from the many rocks. He laid down to a nap but kept his senses on guard.

He had hardly settled down when she spoke.

"What do you want from me?" Her voice was even and soft.

"I want ya ta stop bein' an asshole, fer starters. An' then ta start doin' yer job without complainin'."

"No, you don't." Her voice was even softer now; gentle almost. "You want me to stop resisting to your orders and to become your slave."

Creed knew she'd still hang on to her stubborn ideas for quite some time before she'd let herself be effectively squashed by his will, so it wasn't hard to resist any annoyance. After all, he might not have any patience to put up with general crap, but he had all the patience in the world for his prey, when he was hunting. After a while, when he didn't answer her, she continued.

"I've lost a lot of things, Mr. Creed, but I'm not letting go of de only thing I've got a word over. I'm not letting go of my dignity. Of my…" She paused for a second before continuing in a fierce whisper. "I'm not letting you destroy me."

Stubborn to the core, Creed almost snorted before picking up her challenge.

"Fine. I ain't gonna destroy ya then, I'll just let ya do it yerself. Would that be acceptable ta ya? Look, kid, I ain't no nice guy, but I did lose my precious time ta teach ya how ta defend yerself, remember? Right in between saving yer life a couple o' times. Ya remember that? Is it that strange I'm gonna demand something back from ya?"

She didn't answer and he got up, going over to her side. Without delay, he grabbed her by her shoulders to pull her up in a sitting position, ignoring Irbis's pained whelp. Then he sat down in front of her and looked her straight in the eye.

"Yup, ya're right. The only thing I wanted ya fer was cleaning my house so then I could kill ya. But since ya proved yerself ta be just a great asset, I decided ta keep ya alive. That's what I'm doin'. Keepin' ya alive. If I didn't want ya alive, I would destroy ya, make no mistake. I'd destroy ya painfully."

"You want to bend my will, like we do to horses and bulls."

Creed gazed deep into her eyes and struggled to soften his own voice.

"What do ya want, then?"

Her nostrils flared and her chin twitched for a mere second.

"I want… I want what I can't have." She blinked to keep away tears from forming, but held his gaze.

"Then pick somethin' else ya can have." He challenged.

"No… It's everything or nothing. I want… I just want to feel happy. Contented, if nothing else. But I can't. In all dis time I've been working wid you, I've been eider miserable or… or… just passing time. I want to feel alive! And I can't find a way to do it." She stopped a moment to sniff and steady her voice. "You have offered moments when I felt happy. Very few moments. A couple. You've made me feel alive a few more. And… if I am grateful to you for anything, it's because of dat. But it's not enough! One moment in days and weeks is only teasing. Is only hurting."

"Ya want me ta make ya feel alive?" And what the hell had he been trying to do if not just that.

Irbis shook her head softly.

"I want to make me feel alive myself. But I can't do it alone."

"So ya want me ta do it." He forgot to suppress some sarcasm from spicing his tone, and her eyes shone with rebellion.

"No!" She snapped. "I want you to respect me."

"Well, so there is something ya want from me." No sarcasm, this time, even if he couldn't help a slight undertone of annoyance.

"One more thing I can't have." She added, her accusing voice suddenly hard. "You have no respect for anyone but you. Even when you pretend to respect me, it's only dat: pretending."

Creed suppressed a grin of victory. He had her now.

"I don't give my respect to nobody. Ya'd have ta deserve it." He took a great effort to soften his voice, but there was still an edge to it. "And ya have. Ya deserved my respect when we first met, when ya slit open that guy attackin' ya. That's why I didn't kill ya. Then ya deserved my respect again when ya managed ta stand up against those four stooges that Canadian asshole had sent down. Why d'ya think I took ya with me? 'Cause ya showed me ya deserved ta have yer own vengeance. 'Twas also why I took ya ta the doctor ta check ya up. 'Cause I respected ya. Ya also deserved my respect fer doing yer job right. I ain't ever had a house-keeper woman or agency doin' a better job than you did. It's 'cause I respect yer hard work that I don't wanna kill ya. Then ya once more deserved my respect when ya single-handedly escaped yer kidnappers. Which is why I thought ya were worth spending my time ta teach ya somethin'."

He paused a moment to let the information sink in before continuing.

"But then ya goes an' throw tantrums and act like a spoiled brat. I can't respect that. Ya want me ta respect ya? Deserve it. Not once in a while, but all the time."

"You mean dat, to respect me, I have to take care of myself when you aren't around and to obey your orders when you are around."

Creed breathed out forcefully. He was doing a hell of an effort here, would it really be that hard for the brat to just let go of her stubbornness against taking orders? She held his annoyed gaze. For a split moment he wondered if she could guess what he was trying to do.

"I respect strength. But instead o' tryin' ta be strong, ya play the helpless frail who ain't even interested in tryin' ta improve."

She was thoughtful for a moment.

"What about obeying your orders? Isn't…"

"My 'orders', as ya calls 'em, are only aimin' at teachin' ya somethin'! Teachin' ya ta be stronger. But ya don't want that, do ya? All ya want is ta bury yerself in a tiny hidin'-hole; that's why ya refuse ta obey when I'm tellin' ya what ta do so ya can get stronger. And that, lil' girl, is what I despise about ya."

Creed was particularly careful to make sure she could hear plenty of despise in his last sentence. He was glad when he noticed her jaws' tension and her breathing getting harder. She was fighting herself, her stubbornness. He knew he had her. But he still suppressed his victorious grin and tried his best to keep his eyes hard. The slightest hint would through her stumbling back to her blasted adamant resistance.

Finally, she looked away from him and closed her eyes with a sigh, her head trembling for a single moment. She was broken. Her stubbornness, at least. But Creed still kept his face from showing the slightest hint of his victory. It all amounted to nothing, though. He almost growled when he saw her open her eyes with determination and gazing back at him. They were shining with defiance.

"Very well, Mr. Creed. I will deserve your respect den. You want me to fight and to shoot? You want me to learn it from you? I will." Creed frowned. He had expected her to say something farther from his wishes. "But den, respect dis: I will not shoot at you or cut you. I will not hurt you. Because I do not want to. Now respect my strength to stand up against your beatings because of my decision."

Creed growled audibly. She was so begging to… But no, he would not touch one hair of her head. Not just yet, he wouldn't. With a great effort he sheathed his claws, which had come out of their own accord at the provocation. He took deep breaths for a moment, before speaking again. She didn't avoid his eyes. She didn't believe he could control himself, he recalled.

"Why. Not." He spat through clenched teeth. "Just explain that one to me, an' don't gimme that crap 'bout me savin' yer life."

"Because." She blurted, almost haughtily. "I decided I wouldn't."

Creed closed his fists so hard it hurt.

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Thank you for reading and reviewing.

**_Special note for Kristy a.k.a. Satanicmidget69:_**

_Although I enjoy even the shortest reviews, yours was so expressive it has boosted my ego for quite some time. Thank you for your words and should you feel like dropping a line and not be able to think of anything 'specific' or 'helpful', just tell me which part you enjoyed the best. I can assure you that knowing what my readers laughed or cringed at helps me a lot. _

_I'm afraid I won't be continuing with further adventures of Irbis and Sabretooth for a few months, for I don't start posting chapters to a new story until I've finished every chapter in it. On the other hand, and since you like Sabretooth, I hope you will enjoy the next stories. They are two spin-offs from the "Wolverine: Origin" series and the second in particular might interest you. _


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